• 


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sj^^ 


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N     . 


THE  KNIGHTS 


ARISTOPHANES. 


TBAKSLATED    BT 


T.  MITCHELL,  A.  M. 


tATJE  FELIOW  OF  SIDNEY- SUSSEX  COLLEGE,  CAMBRIDGE. 


FIRST     AMERICAN     EDITION. 


WASHINGTON  CITY: 
GARRET   ANDERSON. 

1S37. 


ft^nX 


PREFACE  TO  THE  AMERICAN  EDITION. 

9©0 


If  the  American  Editor  of  this  little  volume  (which  is  sent 
forth  as  a  test  of  the  character  of  American  learning)  deemed  it 
either  expedient  or  necessary  to  expatiate  upon  the  merits  of  an 
author  so  celebrated  and  gifted  as  Aristophanes,  he  might  extend 
his  eulogia  beyond  the  patient  perusal  of  the  moderns.  The 
eloquent  and  erudite  preliminary  discourse  by  the  accomplished 
translator,  however,  anticipates  the  remarks  which  otherwise 
would  be  expanded.  No  satirist,  ancient  or  modern,  ever  enjoyed 
the  deserved  reputation  of  Aristophanes,  and  no  one  ever  depicted, 
in  colors  so  vivid  and  unfading,  the  essential  and  peculiar  charac- 
teristics of  democracy.  As  he  lived  under  the  dominion  of  the 
Universal  People,  he  thoroughly  understood  the  qualities  of  the 
democrats  whom  he  has  ridiculed  and  immortalized;  and  he  never 
shrunk,  when  occasion  demanded,  from  the  exposure  of  flagrant 
abuses.  Therefore,  we  commend,  earnestly  commend  the  perusal 
of  this  volume  to  our  literary  countrymen:  and  if  the  reception  of 
this  limited  edition  of  a  single  comedy  shall  justify  the  editor  in 
the  more  enlarged  republication  of  all  the  works  of  Aristophanes, 
he  will  rejoice  in  the  opportunity,  thus  afforded,  of  instructing 
and  enlightening  his  countrymen. 


ORIGINAL    PREFACE 


The  volume  here  submitted  to  the  reader's  attention,  forms  a 
part  of  a  work  which  was  prepared  for  publication  in  the  spring 
of  1816.  With  the  causes  which  have  hitherto  delayed  its  ap- 
pearance it  is  not  thought  necessary  to  trouble  the  public.  The 
translator,  however,  has  taken  advantage  of  the  interval  thus 
afforded,  in  endeavoring  to  make  himself  better  acquainted  with 
subjects  collaterally  connected  with  his  author;  but  the  main  ob- 
ject, the  translations,  he  has  left  nearly  in  their  original  condition, 
under  the  impression  that,  if  any  of  the  spirit  and  raciness  of  the 
original  could  be  caught,  it  would  be,  generally  speaking,  in  the 
first  transfusion;  and  that,  in  this  particular  instance  of  authorship, 
a  certain  air  of  roughness  would  be  preferable  to  an  appearance 
of  too  much  intense  labor  and  polish. 

The  general  plan  upon  which  it  was  proposed  to  conduct  this 
work  having  long  been  submitted  to  the  public,  the  translator  can 
only  allow  himself  to  say  that  he  is  not  aware  of  having  hitherto 
deviated  from  it.  His  great  object  has  been  to  direct  the  reader's  . 
attention  to  the  text,  and  to  leave  his  judgment  to  infer  such  po- 
litical lessons  as  seemed  fairly  dcduciblc  from  it.  Whatever  notes 
have  been  added,  have  been  subjoined  with  the  view  of  rendering 
the  text  more  intelligible;  and  every  endeavor  has  been  used  to 
shorten  and  reduce  them  as  much  as  possible.  Some  opinions 
expressed  in  the  course  of  this  volume,  on  the  moral  character  of 
the  Athenians,  (and  on  them,  collectively,  it  seemed  more  proper 
to  alhx  reproach,  in  many  instances,  than  on  the  dramatist,  whose 
busuiess  it  was  to  paint  and  to  please  his  auditors  according  to 
their  own  notions  of  amusement,)  may, perhaps,  appear  unreason- 
ably severe.  But  the  reader  must  recollect  that  the  complete 
evidence  on  which  these  opinions  have  been  founded  is  not  before 
him;  and  that  the  translator,  in  being  obliged  to  wade  through 
some  dirt  himself,  has  been  as  careful  as  possible  to  let  none  fall 
on  the  by-stander.  Perhaps  this  reserve  has  been  carried  too  far. 
The  old  comedy  of  the  Greeks  approaches  very  nearly  to  history: 
and  "it  is  the  business  of  history,"  says  a  writer  frequently  quoted 
in  the  following  pages,  "to  represent  men,  not  such  as  they  should 
be,  but  such  as  they  have  been;  and  thus  learning,"  adds  Mr. 
Mitford,  "what  they  should  be,  through  observation  of  what  they 
should  not  bo,  far  more  vriluable  instruction,  both  political  and 


Yr  ORIGINAL  PREFACE. 

moral,  may  be  gathered,  than  from  any  visionary  description  of 
perfection  in  human  nature."  The  opinions  thus  forcibly  ex- 
pressed add  weight  to  the  suspicion  which  has  sometimes  crossed 
the  translator's  mind,  that  in  the  execution  of  this  work,  an  un- 
willingness to  uncover  the  nakedness  of  a  people  whose  writers 
have  been  our  parents  in  almost  every  species  of  knowledge,  has 
influenced  him  too  powerfully,  and  that  a  wider  scope  should  have 
been  given  to  a  species  of  humor,  the  chief  merit  of  which  lies  in 
its  close  and  faithful  delineation  of  popular  feelings,  popular  habits, 
and  popular  modes  of  speech. 

For  any  warmth  of  expression  which  may  have  been  used  in 
discussing  the  political  character  of  the  Athenians,  this  is  certainly 
not  the  time  to  apologize.  Aware,  as  the  writer  is,  that  in  a 
constitution  so  nicely  balanced  as  our  own,  any  exclusive  view  of 
politics  ought  carefully  to  be  avoided, — yet,  when  an  outrage 
necessarily  growing  out  of  those  studied  attempts  long  made  to 
degrade  the  crown  and  aristocracy  of  England,  and  even  to  as- 
similate her  admirable  constitution  to  that  of  the  democracies  of 
Italy  or  Greece,  is  perpetrating  in  our  streets — he  may  rather 
doubt  whether  he  has  held  up  the  inward  hollowness  and  rotten- 
ness of  one  of  these  democracies  in  a  manner  sufficiently  striking, 
than  fear  that  he  has  exposed  her  corruptions  and  her  crimes  in 
language  too  glowing.  In  the  atrocious  transaction  which  at 
this  moment  fills  every  heart  with  indignation  and  horror,  England 
has,  for  the  first  time,  witnessed  one  of  those  foul  scenes  which 
so  often  stain  the  pages  of  Thucydides,  and  which  make  Dante 
blacken  at  the  name  of  Florence,  in  Hell,  in  Purgatory,  in  Heaven. 
That  "city  of  division,"  as  he  emphatically  calls  her,  enjoyed  no 
monopoly  of  crime  among  her  republican  neighbors  and  prede- 
cessors; and  it  was  in  the  fullest  sense  of  this  feeling  (a  feeling 
which  we,  alas !  can  now  better  appreciate)  that  this  sublimest  of 
her  poets,  in  the  full  maturity  of  his  intellect,  and  with  such  mon- 
sters as  the  Eccelins  and  the  Visconti  before  his  eyes,  deliberately 
reserved  the  climax  of  retribution  in  his  scale  of  guilt  for  the 
betrayer*  of  his  master,  and  the  assassins  of  their  ruler  and  king. 

This  volume  is  committed  to  the  public  with  the  certain  know- 
ledge, that  whatever  may  be  its  deficiencies,  they  will  soon  be 
detected;  but  with  a  confidence  no  less  certain,  that  they  who  are 
best  able  to  point  out  those  deficiencies,  will  be  the  foremost  to 
make  all  candid  allowances  for  them.  To  an  important  part  of  it, 
a  degree  of  favor  and  indulgence  has  been  extended  in  another 
place,  which  the  writer  was  wholly  unprepared  to  expect.  He  can 
only  hope  that  that  favor  may  not  be  forfeited  by  its  present  ap- 
pearance. For  any  labor  which  the  rest  of  the  volume  may  have 
cost  him,  he  shall  feel  amply  repaid  if  it  occasionally  wrest  from 
the  reader  the  good-humored  Frenchman's  concession: — J^ai  ri — 
me  voila  desarme. 

•Inferno,  Canto  XXXIV. 


PRELIMINARY  DISCOURSE. 


The  origin,  technical  construction  and  divisions  of  the  Greek  Comedy 
have  been  sufficiently  explained  in  the  works  of  several  popular  writers : 
the  Lectures  of  Blair,  the  Observer  of  Cumberland,  and  Brumoy's  The- 
atre des  Grecs  affording  satisfactory  references  for  those  readers,  who 
want  information  on  any  or  all  of  these  topics.  The  purport  and  bear- 
ings of  that  particular  branch  of  it,  known  by  the  name  of  Old  Comedy, 
with  the  views  and  character  of  the  person  wlio  carried  it  to  its  greatest 
height,  have  recently  been  discussed  by  two  most  distinguished  scho- 
lars and  brothers,  whose  works  are  in  the  hands  of  every  man  of  letters, 
and  whose  critical  opinions  are  now  received  with  deference  and  respect 
throughout  Europe.  The  Messrs  Schlegels  have  placed  the  great  comic 
poet  of  antiquity  on  a  ground,  high  indeed,  but  on  a  ground,  which 
every  scholar,  intimately  acquainted  with  his  writings,  will  allow  to  be 
no  more  than  his  due.*     Had  these  two  critics  offered  a  clue  for  ascer- 

*  "  If  we  would  judge  of  Aristophanes  as  a  writer  and  as  a  poet,"  says  M. 
F.  Schlegel,  (and  his  remarks,  exclusively  of  their  own  merit,  require  insertion, 
as  forming  the  groundwork  of  what  is  here  offered,)  "  we  must  transplant  our- 
selves freely  and  entirely  into  the  age  in  which  he  lived.  In  the  modern  ages 
of  Europe  it  has  often  been  made  the  subject  of  reproach  against  particular  na- 
tions or  periods,  that  literature  in  general,  but  principally  the  poets  and  their 
works,  have  too  exclusively  endeavoured  to  regulate  themselves  according  to 
the  rules  of  polished  society,  and,  above  all,  the  prejudices  of  the  female  sex. 
Even  among  those  nations,  and  in  those  periods  which  have  been  most  fre- 
quently charged  with  this  fault,  there  has  been  no  want  of  authors  who  have 
loudly  lamented  that  it  should  be  so,  and  asserted  and  maintained,  with  no  in- 
considerable zeal,  that  the  introduction  of  this  far-sought  elegance  and  gallantry, 
not  only  into  the  body  of  literature  as  a  whole,  but  even  into  those  departments  of 
it  where  their  presence  is  most  unsuitable,  has  an  evident  tendency  to  make  lite- 
rature tame,  poor,  uniform,  and  unmanly.  It  may  be  that  there  is  some  founda- 
tion for  this  complaint :  the  whole  literature  of  antiquity,  but  particularly  that  of 
the  Greeks,  lies  open  to  a  reproach  of  an  entirely  opposite  nature.  If  our  lite- 
rature has  sometimes  been  too  exclusively  feminine,  theirs  was  at  all  times  uni- 
formly and  exclusively  masculine,  not  unfrequently  of  a  nature  far  more  rough 
and  unpolished  than  might  have  been  expected  from  the  general  intellectual 
character  and  refinement  of  the  ancients." 

After  a  few  brief  remarks  on  the  degraded  state  of  female  society  in  Greece, 
and  the  baneful  effect  it  had  upon  Grecian  literature,  M.  Schlegel  proceeds — 
2 


10  PRELIMINARV    DISCOURSE. 

taining  the  reasons,  by  which  this  extraordinary  writer  came  so  rudely 
into  contact  with  a  contemporary  still  more  extraordinary,  a  volume 

"  Here,  where  we  are  treating  of  the  decline  of  Grecian  manners,  and  of  the 
writer  who  has  painted  that  decline  the  most  powerfully  and  the  most  clearly— 
the  consideration  of  this  common  defect  of  antiquity  has,  1  imagine,  been  not 
improperly  introduced.  But  when  this  imperfection  has  once  been  distinctly 
recognized  as  one  the  reproach  of  which  affects  in  justice  not  the  individual 
writers,  but  rather  the  collective  character,  manners,  and  literature  of  antiquity; 
it  were  absurd  to  allow  ourselves  to  be  any  longer  so  much  influenced  by  it,  as 
to  disguise  from  ourselves  the  great  qualities  often  found  in  combination  with  it 
in  writings  which  are  altogether  invaluable  to  us,  both  as  specimens  of  poetical 
art,  and  as  representations  of  the  spoken  wit  of  a  very  highly  refined  state  of 
society;  to  refuse,  in  one  word,  to  perceive  in  Aristophanes  the  great  poetwhich 
he  really  is.  It  is  true  that  the  species  and  form  of  his  writing — if  indeed  that 
can  be  said  with  propriety  to  belong  to  any  precise  species  or  form  of  composi- 
tion— are  things  to  which  we  have  no  parallel  in  modern  letters.  All  the  pecu- 
liarities of  the  Old  Comedy  may  be  traced  to  those  deifications  of  physical 
powers,  which  were  prevalent  among  the  ancients.  Among  them,  in  the  festi- 
vals dedicated  to  Bacchus  and  other  frolicsome  deities,  every  sort  of  freedom, 
even  the  wildest  ebullitions  of  mirth  and  jollity  were  not  only  things  permit- 
ted, they  were  strictly  in  character,  and  formed,  in  truth,  the  consecrated  cere- 
monial of  the  season.  The  fancy,  above  all  things,  a  power  by  its  very  nature 
impatient  of  constraint,  the  birthright  and  peculiar  possession  of  the  poet,  was 
on  these  occasions  permitted  to  attempt  the  most  audacious  heights,  and  revel 
in  the  wildest  world  of  dreams,  loosened  for  a  moment  from  all  those  fetters  of 
law,custom,  and  propriety,  which  at  other  times,  and  in  other  species  of  writing, 
must  ever  regulate  its  exertion  even  in  the  hands  of  poets.  The  true  poet,  how- 
ever, at  whatever  time  this  old  privilege  granted  him  a  Saturnalian  license  for 
the  play  of  his  fancy,  was  uniformly  impressed  with  a  sense  of  the  obligation 
under  which  he  lay,  not  only  by  a  rich  and  various  display  of  his  inventive 
genius,  but  by  the  highest  elegance  of  language  and  versification,  to  maintain 
entire  his  poetical  dignity  and  descent,  and  to  show,  in  the  midst  of  all  his  ex- 
travagances,^ that  he  was  not  animated  by  prosaic  petulance,  nor  personal  spleen, 
but  inspired  with  the  genuine  audacity  and  fearlessness  of  a  poet.  Of  this  there 
is  the  most  perfect  illustration  in  Aristophanes.  In  language  and  versification 
his  excellence  is  not  barely  acknowledged — it  is  such  as  to  entitle  him  to  take 
his  place  among  the  first  poets  to  whom  Greece  has  given  birth.  In  many  pas- 
sages of  serious  and  earnest  poetry,  which  (thanks  to  the  boundless  variety  and 
lawless  formation  of  the  popular  comedy  of  Athens)  he  has  here  and  there 
introduced,  Aristophanes  shows  himself  to  be  a  true  poet,  and  capable,  had  he 
so  chosen,  of  reaching  the  highest  eminence  even  in  the  more  dignified  depart- 
ments of  his  art. 

"  This  might  be  abundantly  sufficient,  not  indeed  to  represent  Aristophanes 
as  a  fit  subject  of  imitation,  for  that  he  can  never  be,  but  to  set  his  merit  as  a 
poet  in  its  true  light.  But  if  we  examine  into  the  use  which  he  has  made  as  a 
man,  but  more  particularly  as  a  citizen,  of  that  liberty  which  was  his  poetical 
birthright,  both  by  the  manners  of  antiquity,  and  by  the  constitution  of  his 
country,  we  shall  find  many  things  which  might  be  said  still  further  in  his  vin- 


PU'EMMIKARY    DISCOURSE.  II 

which  attempts  to  give  some  faint  idea  of  his  works  by  ttanslalion, 
might  commence  its  labours  without  any  additional  demand  on  the 
reader's  patience.  This  however  the  Messrs  Schlegels  have  not  done, 
and  room  is  still  left  for  discussing,  how  it  happened  that  the  wisest 
and  the  wittiest  men  of  Athens  were  made  to  jostle  so  roughly  against 
each  other.  At  this  distance  of  time  it  cannot  be  expected  that  materials 
should  be  found  for  setting  the  subject  completely  at  rest;  and  indeed, 
when  we  consider  how  lately  and  with  what  difficulty  one  of  the  bright- 
est ornaments  of  our  own  literature  has  been  rescued  from  the  calumnies 
of  ignorance,  misrepresentation,  and  malevolence,  we  may  demand  to 
be  excused,  if  after  all  our  researches,  some  disputed  points  of  relation- 
ship between  a  poet  and  philosopher  of  two  thousand  years  back,  remain 
still  unexplained.  Disquisitions,  however,  of  this  kind  are  never  with- 
out their  use;  besides  their  own  intrinsic  importance,  they  often  serve, 
like  Selden's  straws,  to  show  how  the  wind  blows  in  some  of  the  most 
important  topics,  which  belong  to  all  ages  and  countries,  and  which  can 
never  be  brought  under  review  too  often.  It  will  be  taken  then  for 
granted,  that  the  reader  is  acquainted  with  some  of  the  leading  differ- 
ences between  the  scenic  representations  of  the  Greeks  and  our  own. 
He  will  be  supposed  to  know,  that  the  dramas  of  that  people  grew  out 
of  and  formed  part  of  their  religious  ceremonies — that  they  were  ex- 

dication,  and  which  cannot  indeed  fail  to  raise  him  personally  in  our  esteem. 
His  principal  merit,  as  a  patriot,  consists  in  the  fidelity  with  which  he  paints 
all  the  corruptions  of  the  state,  and  in  the  chastisement  which  he  inflicts  on  the 
pestilent  demao-ogues  who  caused  that  corruption  or  profited  by  its  effects.  The 
latter  duty  was  attended  with  no  inconsiderable  danger  in  a  state  governed  by 
a  democracy,  and  during  a  time  of  total  anarcliy  ;  yet  Aristophanes  has  performed 
it  with  the  most  fearless  resolution.  It  is  true  that  he  pursues  and  parodies 
Euripides  with  unrelenting  severity;  but  this  is  perfectly  in  character  with  the 
old  spirit  of  merciless  enmity  which  animated  all  the  comic  poets  against  the 
tragedians ;  and  it  is  impossible  not  to  perceive  that  not  only  the  more  ancient 
^schylus,  but  even  his  contemporary  Sophocles,  is  uniformly  mentioned  in  a 
tone  altogether  different,  in  a  temper  moderate  and  sparing;  nay,  very  frequently, 
with  tiie  profoundcst  feelings  of  admiration  and  respect.  //  formr,  another  grie- 
vous subject  of  reproach  agninst  Jlristophanes,  that  he  has  represented  in  colours  so 
odious,  Socrates,  the  most  wise  and  the  most  virtuous  of  all  his  fellowcitizens ;  it  is, 
however,  hy  no  means  improbable  that  this  was  not  the  effect  of  mere  poetical  wan- 
tonness,- butt/tat  Aristophanes  selected,  without  any  bad  intention,  that  first  and 
best  of  illustrious  names,  that  he  might,  under  if,  render  the  Sophists  as  ridiculous 
as  they  deserved  to  be,  and  as  foolish  and  worthless  in  the  eyes  of  the  people  as  he 
could  make  them.  The  poet,  it  is  not  unlikely,  in  his  own  mind,  mingled  and 
cotifounded,  even  without  wishing  it,  this  inestimable  sage  with  his  enemies  the  So- 
phists, whose  schools  he  frequented  in  his  maturer  years,  solely  with  the  view  of  ma- 
king himself  master  of  that  which  he  intended  to  refute  and  overthroir.  Lectures 
on  the  History  of  Literature,  pp.  57 — G2. 


12  PRKLIMIXARY    DISCOURSE. 

hibited  in  theatres  of  a  colossal  size  compared  with  ours — that  the  *time3 
of  exhibition  were  at  distant  intervals — that  when  those  few  intervals 
did  take  place,  the  whole  day  was  devoted  to  theatrical  entertainments 
— that  a  prize  was  conferred  on  the  most  successful  competitor — and 
that  a  piece  once  performed,  was  never,  in  the  same  shape  at  least, 
represented  a  second  time.  He  will  further  be  supposed  to  have  some 
knowledge  of  the  general  principles  of  that  peculiar  part  of  the  ancient 
drama,  the  old  comedy,  as  it  is  called,  in  contradistinction  to  what  was 
afterwards  named  the  middle,  and  the  new  : — as  that  it  stood  in  the 
extreme  relation  of  contrariety  and  parody  to  the  tragedy  of  the  Greeks 
— that  it  was  directed  chiefly  to  the  lowerf  orders  of  society  at  Athens 
— that  it  served  in  some  measure  the  purposes  of  the  modern  Journal, 
in  which  public  measures  and  the  topics  of  the  day  might  be  fully  dis- 
cussed ;  and  that  in  consequence  the  dramatis  personse  were  generally 
the  poet's  own  contemporaries,  speaking  in  their  own  names,  and  act- 
ing in  masks,  which,  as  they  bore  only  a  caricature  resemblance  of 
their  faces,  showed  that  the  poet  in  his  observations  upon  them  did  not 
mean  to  be  taken  literally  to  his  expression.  Like  tragedy,  it  consti- 
tuted part  of  a  religious  ceremony ;  and  the  character  of  the  deity,  to 
whom  it  was  more  particularly  dedicated,  was  stamped  at  times  pretty 
visibly  upon  the  work  which  was  composed  in  his  honour.  The  JDi- 
onysian  festivals,  in  short,  were  the  great  Carnivals  of  antiquity — they 

*  It  will  be  sufficient  for  the  present  purpose  to  mention  the  Spring  and  Au- 
tumnal Festivals  of  Bacchus,  as  being  the  seasons  most  particularly  devoted  to 
those  amusements.  Authors  generally  reserved  their  pieces  for  the  former  Fes- 
tival, as  Athens  was  at  that  time  crowded  with  strangers,  the  allies  or  tributaries 
of  that  imperious  metropolis,  and  the  theatres  were  not  then  confined,  as  at  other 
times,  exclusively  to  the  natives  of  Attica. 

f  Besides  internal  evidence,  many  expressions  of  Aristotle  and  Plato  might 
be  quoted  to  this  effect.  The  latter,  indeed,  goes  so  far,  as  to  rank,  in  his 
Treatise  on  Legislation,  the  performance  of  the  comic  theatre  as  only  one  degree 
above  jugglers'  tricks.  Puppet-shows  and  jugglers'  tricks,  he  there  observes, 
are  best  adapted  to  the  taste  of  boys — comedy  to  that  of  growing  lads — and 
tragedy  to  that  of  young  men,  and  the  better  classes  of  women.  Elder  men 
were  to  find  their  entertainment  in  the  recitations  of  Rhapsodists.  We  are  not 
to  take  Plato's  word  too  strictly  in  this  occasion.  Between  the  philosophers 
and  the  comic  writers  there  was  always  open  war;  and  Plato,  who  at  any  rate 
felt  no  scruple  in  borrowing  pictures  and  images  from  Aristophanes,  returned 
the  obligation  by  indulging  in  some  open  and  a  little  more  covert  abuse  of  his 
writings. 

X  A  sort  of  Dionysian  Festival  still  observed  once  every  four  years,  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Vevay — that  scene  of  "  Recollections"  and  of  natural  beauties 
— to  which  the  muse  of  Lord  Byron  alone  could  do  justice.  It  was  a  great 
mortification  to  the  writer  of  these  notes  to  be  there  about  the  time  of  its  cele- 
bration, and  to  find  that  the  distresses  of  the  times  did  not  admit  of  its  being 
observed  as  usual. 


PRELIMINARY  -DISCOURSE.  13 

celebrated  the  returns  of  vernal  festivity  or  the  joyous  vintage,  and  were 
in  consequence  the  great  holidays  of  Athens — the  seasons  of  universal 
relaxation.  The  comic  poet  was  the  high  priest  of  the  festival ;  and  if 
the  orgies  of  his  divinity  (the  God  of  Wine)  sometimes  demanded  a 
style  of  poetry,  which  a  Father  of  our  Church  probably  had  in  his  eye, 
when  he  called  all  poetry  the  deviVs  wine,  the  organ  of  their  utterance 
(however  strange  it  may  seem  to  us)  no  doubt  considered  himself  as 
perfectly  absolved  from  the  censure  which  we  should  bestow  on  such 
productions :  in  their  composition  he  was  discharging  the  same  pious 
office  as  the  painter,  whose  duty  it  was  to  fill  the  temples  of  the  same 
deity  with  *pictures,  which  our  imaginations  would  consider  equally  ill 

*  The  indulgence  granted  to  this  abuse  in  the  time  of  Aristotle  may  be  seen  in 
the  Seventh  Book  of  his  Politics,  c.  17.  As  this  Discourse  has  been  almost 
entirely  confined  to  the  precise  period  of  the  representation  of  the  Clouds,  this 
reference  to  a  later  writer  would  not  have  been  made,  had  not  a  curious  passage 
in  the  Hippolytus  of  Euripides  (v.  1003,)  justified  us  in  taking  it  for  granted, 
that  the  custom  was  as  prevalent  in  the  days  of  Aristophanes  as  it  was  in  the 
time  of  Aristotle.  Good  taste,  as  well  as  other  considerations,  requires  that  this 
part  of  our  subject  should  be  dismissed  as  hastily  as  possible;  but  the  usages  of 
a  large  (and  that  too  the  most  enlightened)  portion  of  antiquity,  cannot  be  alto- 
gether passed  over  in  silence ;  and  it  is  of  importance  to  show,  that  the  value, 
so  justly  due  to  a  great  part  of  the  Aristophanic  writings,  does  not  deserve  to  be 
impugned  from  a  mistaken  supposition,  that  he  stood  single  among  his  country- 
men, in  the  use  of  such  language,  and  allusions,  as  would  be  revolting  in  their 
display  to  modern  feelings,  whatever  excuse  may  be  found  for  them  in  our 
knowledge  of  the  manners  of  antiquity.  The  Greek  Comedy  (according  to  the 
express  testimony  of  Aristotle,)  grew  out  of  the  Phallic  Hymn,  as  the  Greek 
Tragedy  was  merely  an  improvement  upon  the  Dithyrambic  Hymn  ;  and  if  the 
tragedian  could  not  wholly  rescue  his  drama  from  the  god  of  the  vintage  and 
his  fantastic  attendants  the  Satyrs,  (as  many  low  scenes  and  much  snappish 
dialogue,  clear  proofs  of  the  origin  of  Greek  tragedy,  sufficiently  testify,)  we 
may  be  very  sure,  that  an  entire  departure  from  the  canons,  which  regulated  the 
construction  of  the  Phallic  Hymn,  would  not  be  tolerated  in  a  comic  poet.  There 
is  authority,  in  fact,  for  asserting,  that  the  consequences  were  fatal  to  one  of  the 
Greek  dramatists,  who  presumed  to  put  his  own  good  taste  on  this  point  too 
violently  in  opposition  with  the  taste  of  his  audience.  If  Comedy  too  looked 
to  the  Margeites  of  Homer  for  an  example,  on  which  to  model  herself,  as  her 
sister  muse  did  to  his  Iliad  and  Odyssey,  enough  of  that  poem  remains  in  tradi- 
tion to  show  what  kind  of  humour  would  be  required  as  the  predominant  article. 
But  the  usages  of  common  life  among  the  Greeks  form  the  completest  apology 
for  the  aberrations  of  the  Greek  stage.  Let  the  reader  open  any  of  the  volumes 
of  the  "  Antiquit6s  d'Herculanum,"  and  see  what  ohjects  daily  met  the  eyes  of 
men  and  women  both  at  home  and  abroad,  and  he  will  have  little  reason  to  be 
surprised  at  any  freaks,  which  the  gay  Muse  of  Comedy  might  allow  herself 
during  the  permitted  license  of  the  Dionysian  festivities.  How  much  of  this 
proof  of  simplicity  or  depravity  in  the  ancients  (for  vehement  advocates  have 
been  found  for  both  opinions)  is  to  be  attributed  to  the  sources  from  which  the 
Greek  mythology  was  derived — to  oriental  traditions  received  through  the  me- 


14  rr.ELIMTXARV    DI?COTJRSK. 

suiled  to  the  habitations  of  the  tliviuity.  What  religion  tliercfore  forbids 
among  us,  the  religion  of  the  Greeks  did  not  merely  tolerate,  but  enjoin. 
Nor  was  the  extreme  and  even  profane  gaiety  of  the  old  comedy  with- 
out its  excuse.  To  unite  extravagant  mirth  with  a  solemn  seriousness 
was  enjoined  by  law,  even  in  the  sacred  festival  of  Ceres.  The  feast 
of  Bacchus  retained  the  license  without  the  embarrassment  of  the  re- 
straint. While  the  philosophers,  therefore,  querulously  maintained, 
that  man  was  the  joke  and  plaything  of  the  gods,  the  comic  poet  re- 
versed the  picture,  and  made  the  gods  the  plaything  of  men :  in  his 
hands,  indeed,  everything  was  upon  the  broad  grin ;  the  gods  laughed, 
men  laughed,  animals  laughed.  Nature  was  considered  as  a  sort  of 
fantastic  being,  with  a  turn  for  the  humorous,  and  the  world  was  treated 
as  a  sort  of  extended  jest  book,  where  the  poet  pointed  out  the  bons- 
mots,  and  acted  in  some  degree  as  corrector  of  the  press.  If  he  dis- 
charged this  office  sometimes  in  the  sarcastic  spirit  of  a  *Mephistophi- 
lus,  this  too  was  considered  as  a  part  of  his  fimctions  :  he  was  the 
Terrae-Filius  of  the  day,  and  lenity  would  have  been  considered,  not  as 
an  act  of  discretion,  but  as  a  cowardly  dereliction  of  duty. 

Of  the  species  of  comedy  thus  described,  whoever  was  the  inventor, 
whether  fEpicharmus  or  Phormis,  Aristophanes  was  the  great  finisher 
and  perfecter.  With  an  ear  tuned  to  the  nicest  modulations  of  harmony, 
and  with  a  temperament  apparently  most  joyous  and  jovial,  he  was  just 
fitted  for  the  entertainment  of  a  people,  of  whom  Philip  of  Macedon, 

dium  of  Egypt,  we  must  leave  to  the  antiquarians  to  decide.  But  it  may  be 
thrown  out  as  a  fair  conjecture,  that  the  mysterious  phallic  emblem,  which  made 
so  important  a  part  in  the  religious  ceremonies  of  Greece,  and  the  a-Kvrtvov  ttioc, 
which  was  in  consequence  so  frequently  introduced  upon  the  stage,  were  mere 
substitutions,  according  to  the  genius  of  the  Greeks,  for  the  lingam  or  passive 
generating  principle  of  the  Hindoos. 

*  In  the  Faust  of  Goethe,  and  in  that  work  only  of  all  modern  productions, 
some  idea  may  be  formed  of  the  rich  harmonies  and  splendid  versification  of 
Aristophanes.  The  power  which  the  German  language  has  of  approximating 
to  the  more  simple  of  the  Grecian  metres,  and  of  adding  to  that  power  the  full- 
est richness  of  modern  rhyme,  makes  it  doubtful  to  the  ear,  which  of  the  two 
writers  ought  to  be  preferred  ; — were  the  Athenian  read  with  his  proper  accen- 
tuation, there  would  perhaps  be  no  doubt  on  the  subject.  There  are  other  points 
of  relation  between  these  two  writers,  besides  those  of  versification.  To  the 
great  and  overwhelming  tragic  powers  of  Goethe,  Aristophanes,  of  course,  can 
make  no  pretension :  but  in  their  preference  of  the  arbitrary  comic  to  the  comic 
of  manners,  the  two  writers  come  very  close  together;  and  both  writers  should 
have  lived,  as  Madame  de  Sta'el  expresses  it,  when  there  was  an  intellectual 
chaos,  similar  to  the  material  chaos.  Had  Aristophanes  written  in  modern 
times,  it  is,  perhaps,  not  impertinent  to  suggest,  that  the  "  Auerbach's  Keller 
in  Leipzig,"  the  Hexenhuche,  the  Walpurgisnach,  and  perhaps  the  quizzing 
scene  with  the  young  student,  just  fresh  from  his  university,  are  precisely  the 
sort  of  scenes  which  would  have  fallen  from  his  pen. 

f  Arist.  de  Poet.  hb.  i.  §  11. 


PRELIMINARY    DlfeXOUKSE.  15 

when  he  compared  them  to  the  Hermaic  statues,  so  common  in  their 
streets,  drew  in  a  few  words  one  of  the  most  happy  and  characteristic 
descriptions  of  a  people,  which  is  upon  record.  That  gaiety  which  is 
so  well  adapted  to  a  nation  of  quick  natural  parts,  and  which  has  so 
few  charms  for  persons  of  cultivated  understandings,  the  gaiety  which 
consists*  in  painting  pleasantly  the  dullness  of  the  understanding  {la 
betise)  and  in  inspiring  buffoonery ;  of  that  gaiety,  which  has  been  made 
equally  the  basis  of  Italian  and  Grecian  comedy,  Aristophanes  was  pre- 
eminently the  master.  Music,  dancing,  metre,  decoration — all  that 
union  of  amusement,  which  the  Greeks,  a  seeing  and  not  a  reading 
public,  (this  fact  cannot  be  too  much  in  our  minds,  when  we  are  talking 
of  their  dramatic  literature,)  required  of  their  writers  for  the  stage,  Aris- 
tophanes seems  to  have  improved;!  the  muse  of  Comedy  herself  he  left 
as  he  found  her — a  beautiful  Titania,  matchless  in  her  outward  propor- 
tions, but  with  a  spell  upon  her  affections,  and  showering  favours,  which 
should  have  been  better  bestowed — upon  an  ass's  head,  with  Bottom, 
the  weaver,  below  it.  An  utter  aversion  to  every  species  of  affectation, 
and  a  most  splenetic  hatred  to  Euripides,  (derived  from  deeper  views 
of  things,  than  people  have  generally  given  the  comedian  credit  for,) 
perhaps  guided  Aristophanes  on  this  point.  He  found  that  poet,  half- 
pleader,  and  half-bard,  as  he  contemptuously  calls  him,  affecting  to 
rescue  the  sister  muse  of  tragedy  from  the  coarse  hands  of  ^Eschylus, 
under  whom  she  had  been  pampered  into  a  sort  of  cumbrous  ostenta- 
tious Amazon.  A  course  of  strait-lacing  and  cool  diet  was  bringing  her 
a  little  more  into  compass :  her  appearance  had  already  become  more 
genteel,  and  only  a  little  more  polish  was  necessary  to  fit  her  for  the 
society  of  the  Sophists,  to  whose  schools  she  continually  resorted  for 
the  little  prettinesses,  and  affectations  and  delicacies  of  thought  and  ex- 
pression, which  were  for  ever  in  her  mouth.  A  rough  hand  and  a 
good  course  of  bark  and  steel  were  necessary  to  repair  the  spreading 
mischief  and  infection.     The  puns  of  the  Peiraeus,:^  and  the  proverbs 


*  Litterature  du  Midi,  torn.  ii.  p.  367. 

f  He  particularly  reformed  the  Cordax  or  Danceof  Comedy,  which,  however, 
in  the  time  of  Thcophrastus,  seems  to  have  relapsed  into  its  former  state  of  rn- 
decorousness.  See  the  sixth  of  those  inimitable  Characters  which  he  has  left  us. 

-\.  We  are  apt  to  forget  that  Athens  was  the  greatest  maritime  power  of  anti- 
quity;  but  Aristophanes,  a  consummate  politician  amid  all  his  buIToonery,  knew 
perfectly  well  where  her  real  strength  lay ;  he  therefore  takes  every  occasion  of 
paying  court  to  the  naval  part  of  his  audience,  the  "  nautic  multitude,"  as  Xeno- 
phon  calls  them,  and  advocates  their  rights  upon  all  occasions.  How  much 
Plato  and  he  were  at  variance  upon  this  point,  see  the  fourth  book  of  his  Legis- 
lation. Aristotle  coincides  with  the  poet,  De  Rep.  1.  vii.  c.  C.  Tlie  learned 
reader  will  remember  various  passages  of  Xenophon  and  Isocrates,  expressing 
their  respective  opinions  on  this  important  topic. 


16  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

of  the  *Agora,  and  the  coarse  jokes  of  the  Eeclesia  and  Heliaea  were 
therefore  diliffcntly  collected  and  culled,  and  showered  from  a  full  cor- 
nucopia, in  all  their  native  richness  and  strength  upon  an  audience, 
who  must  have  found  in  them  a  charm,  of  which  we  are  wholly 
unsusceptible.  Perhaps,  too,  it  added  some  charm  to  their  value,  in  the 
eyes  of  democratical  pride  and  vanity,  that  it  was  a  man  of  rank  and 
property  (for  Aristophanes  was  both)  who  thus  condescended  to  amuse 
his  audience  according  to  their  own  notions  of  pleasantry  and  humour. 

Till  the  fatal  exhibition  therefore  of  the  Clouds,  the  dramatic  career  of 
Aristophanes  had  been  short,  but  eminently  successful.  His  first  play, 
(the  Dsetaleis,)  which  was  brought  out  before  the  author  had  reached 
the  age  established  by  law,t  we  know  to  have  been  received  with  the 
most  flattering  attention :  his  "  Babylonians"  could  boast  the  triumph 
of  having  at  once  excited  and  defeated  the  vengeance  of  that  pestilent 
demagogue,  who  seems,  as  the  historian  expresses  it,  to  have  been  as 
much  born  for  the  depression  of  Athens,  as  Miltiades,  Themistocles, 
Cymon  and  Pericles  were  for  its  elevation;  while  the  prize  of  victory 
had  been  awarded  to  his  comedies  of  the  Acharnians  and  the  Knights. 
Diffidence^  had  thus  been  removed :  exertion  was  stimulated ;  and  grati- 
tude, success,  emulation  and  hope,  all  urged  the  writer  to  press  forward 
in  a  career,  which  had  commenced  under  such  favourable  auspices. 

The  first  of  the  dramatic  pieces  of  Aristophanes  seems  to  have  been 

*  The  Agora  was  the  public  place  of  the  Greeks,  which,  however,  differed 
very  considerably  from  the  Forum  of  the  Romans,  the  substitute  generally  given 
for  it.  This  substitution  of  Roman  terms  for  Grecian,  has  occasioned  a  great 
deal  of  confusion  in  the  minds  of  readers.  Works  of  humour  cannot  safely  dis- 
pense with  them :  for  humour  must  be  excited  by  appealing  to  ideas  already 
resident  in  the  mind,  as  there  must  be  material  ready  to  receive  the  sparks  eli- 
cited from  flint  in  order  to  create  a  flame.  Writers  upon  serious  subjects  are 
not  so  tied  by  their  subjects,  and  an  appeal  may  be  made  to  scholars,  whether 
it  is  not  time,  that  the  mythologies  of  the  two  great  nations  of  antiquity  should 
be  kept  more  distinct  by  the  introduction  of  a  Zeus,  a  Poseidon,  and  a  Chronus, 
as  well  as  a  Jupiter,  a  Neptune,  and  a  Saturn. 

I  Wieland,  in  the  notes  to  his  translation  of  the  "  Clouds,"  quotes  the  autho- 
rity of  the  Scholiast  for  saying,  that  there  is  an  uncertainty  whether  the  legal 
age  for  exhibiting  a  dramatic  piece,  was  twenty  or  thirty  years  of  age.  In  the 
former  case,  Aristophanes  could  have  been  little  more  than  twenty-four  or 
twenty-five  years  old  when  he  produced  that  elaborate  composition.  In  Kuster's 
edition,  the  Scholiast  (apparently  with  good  reason)  places  the  established  age 
ten  years  later  than  Wieland  does ;  the  office  was  one  of  serious  national  im- 
portance, and  therefore,  not  likely  to  be  committed  to  a  mere  youth. 

^  Diffidence  is'a  quality  not  usually  ascribed  to  this  poet :  but  his  well-known 
repugnance  to  take  a  part  in  the  performance  of  his  own  plays  (the  usual  prac- 
tice of  the  times)  till  he  was  forced  into  it  by  circumstances,  (see  the  preface  to 
the  Knights  in  this  volume,)  and  the  Parabases  in  the  Knights  and  the  Clouds, 
fully  establish  the  fact. 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  17 

directed  against  the  state  of  private  manners  in  Athens  ;*  in  his  Achar- 
nians  he  endeavoured  to  moderate  the  insolence  of  national  success,  and 
to  infuse  juster  notions  respecting  a  great  public  measure,  which  was 
putting  the  existence  of  the  Athenians  as  a  people  at  stake ;  while  in 
the  knights,  or,  as  it  may  more  properly  be  termed,  the  Demagogues, 
a  mirror  was  held  up  to  his  fellow-citizens,  where  the  ruler  and  the 
ruled  saw  themselves  reflected  with  equal  fidelity,  and  by  which  pos- 
terity has  gained  a  complete  knowledge  of  the  greatest  historical  phae- 
nomenon  that  ever  appeared,  the  Athenian  Demus.  It  remained  for 
the  author  to  strike  at  the  root  of  all  these  evils,  private  and  public, 
domestic  and  political — a  mischievous  and  most  pernicious  system  of 
education.  This  was  undoubtedly  the  origin  and  object  of  the  Clouds; 
and  a  brief  outline  of  the  progress  of  knowledge  among  the  Greeks, 
and  more  particularly  of  that  branch  of  it,  which  was  comprehended 
under  the  name  of  "  Philosophy,"  will  at  once  tend  to  explain  the  aim 
of  the  author,  and  throw  some  light  upon  the  comedy  itself.  That 
Aristophanes  had  not  entered  lightly  or  without  reflection  upon  the 
office  of  a  public  instructor,  this  mere  arrangement  of  his  subjects,  at 
an  age  when,  if  not  youthful  in  years,  he  was  at  least  young  in  his 
career,  sufficiently  testifies  ;  and  we  may  here  see  what  might  have  been 
expected  from  him  in  maturer  years,  if  public  favour  had  patronised 
this  attempt  to  raise  the  comedy  of  his  country  above  its  ordinary  level, 
and  to  make  it  something  more  than  a  scene  of  ebullition  for  the  noisy 
jollity  and  licentious  revelry  of  the  Dionysian  festivals. 

The  proper  epoch  of  Grecian  literature  begins  with  Solon.  Before 
his  time,  says  Frederic  Schlegel,  the  Greeks  possessed  no  more  than 
commonly  falls  to  the  share  of  every  people  who  are  blessed  with  a 
favourable  corporeal  organization,  while  they  are  animated  with  the 
fresh  impulses  of  a  youthful  society — traditions  which  hold  the  place 
of  histories,  and  songs  and  poems  which  are  repeated  and  remembered 
so  as  to  serve  instead  of  books.  Such  songs,  as  this  excellent  writer 
proceeds  to  observe,  calculated  to  arouse  national  feelings,  to  give  ani- 
mation in  the  hour  of  battle,  or  to  be  sung  at  the  festivals  of  their  reli 
gion,  the  Greeks  possessed,  in  the  utmost  variety,  from  the  most  early 
period  of  their  existence  as  a  nation.  They  possessed  also  in  abund- 
ance those  still  more  valuable  songs  of  narrative,  which  express  not  the 
feelings  that  seize  and  overpower  an  individual  poet,  but  which  embody 
the  recollection  and  the  feelings  of  the  people — the  faint  memory  of  an 
almost  fabulous  antiquity — the  achievements  of  heroes  and  of  gods— 

*  The  principal  characters  in  this  play,  of  which  only  a  few  fragments  have 
reached  us,  were  two  brothers :  their  names,  Sophron  and  Catapygox,  suffi- 
ciently evince,  that  the  object  of  the  play  was  to  establish  a  comparison  between 
the  temperate  virtues  of  the  good  old  times  (a  favourite  theme  of  Aristophanes) 
and  the  unrestrained  and  unexampled  dissoluteness  of  his  own  age. 
3 


18  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

the  origin  of  a  nation,  and  the  creation  of  the  world.  Among  these 
stood,  highly  preeminent,  the  Homeric  poems,  the  still  astonishing 
works  of  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey. 

In  committing  these  poems  to  memory,  numerous  as  we  have  seen 
and  while  books  were  scarce  and  valuable,  many  of  them  perhaps  to  be 
learned  only  by  oral  communication  ;  in  understanding  critically  their 
beauties  and  defects,  and  in  attaining,  through  them,  a  perfect  know- 
ledge of  that  wonderful  language,  which,  formed  amid  migrations  and 
revolutions  of  every  kind,  yet  attained  to  such  perfection,  as  to  make 
all  subsequent  languages  appear  nearly  barbarous,  consisted  a  great  part, 
and,  from  the  effect  it  had  in  cultivating  the  imagination  at  the  expense 
of  the  understanding,  many  persons  will  think  a  very  vicious  part,  of 
Athenian  education.  But  the  principal  development  of  the  faculties 
was  left  to  be  effected  by  the  two  opposite  engines,  at  once  producing 
and  evincing  that  love  of  contrast,  which  obtained  so  much  among  the 
Athenians,  and  which  forms  the  great  key  to  ascertaining  their  character 
— music  and  gymnastic  exercises.  What  the  music  itself  of  the  ancients 
ever  was,  we  have  now,  as  a  very  competent  observer  remarks,  little 
means  of  judging,  as  none  of  it  has  been  transmitted  intelligible  to  us  ; 
but  that  the  Grecian  music,  even  from  the  earliest  times,  had  extraordi- 
nary merit,  we  have  Plato's*  testimony  in  very  remarkable  words  ;  and 
Aristotle,  who,  according  to  Montesquieu,  had  two  ruling  motives  to 
guide  his  decisions,  affection  for  Alexander,  and  a  jealousy  against 
Plato,  upon  this  subject  coincides  in  judgment  with  his  great  master. 
It  appears  indeed  a  solecism,  as  Mr  Mitford  observes,  to  suppose  that 
those  elegant  perceptions  and  nice  organs  which  gave  form  to  the  most 
harmonious  language  ever  spoken  among  men,  and  guided  invention  to 
the  structure  of  that  verse  which,  even  under  the  gross  disguise  of  mo- 
dern pronunciation,  is  still  universally  charming,  could  have  produced 
or  could  have  tolerated  a  vicious  or  inelegant  style  of  music.  As  in- 
struments of  education,  Plato  delights  to  dwell  upon  these  two  powerful 
engines  :  he  paints,  in  the  most  earnest  language,  their  ill  effects,  when 
pursued  separately  and  immoderately ;  their  admirable  influence,  when 
conjointly  and  temperately.     Naturally  mystic  and  fanciful,  it  is  not 


*  Minos,  46  (B).  Convivium,  333  (B).  The  two  grf^at  founders  of  the  Gre- 
cian music,  Marsyas  and  Olympus,  seem,  from  the  discoveries  made  at  Hercu- 
laneum,  to  have  been  very  favourite  objects  of  representation  with  the  sculptors 
and  artists  of  Greece.  Olympus  is  generally  represented,  as  a  young  man  of 
exquisite  beauty  and  the  most  graceful  proportions,  taking  lessons  on  the  pan- 
pipe from  Marsyas;  the  latter,  from  that  love  of  contrast,  which  ran  through  the 
Grecian  arts,  or  from  that  idea  of  ridicule,  which  latterly  attached  among  the 
Athenians  to  the  professors  of  wind  music,  is  generally  drawn  as  a  Satyr,  as 
enormous  in  his  proportions  as  Olympus  is  delicate. 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  W 

likely  that  this  philosopher  should  be  always  clear  or  plain,*  when 
subjects  which  offered  so  much  temptation  to  both  his  ruling  propen- 
sities, as  harmony  and  the  exercises  of  the  palaestra,  were  under  his 
consideration ;  what  share  they  had  in  producing  that  physical  perfec- 
tion at  least — that  union  of  strength  and  elegance  in  the  body,  and  that 
capacity  in  the  organs  for  receiving  impressions  from  works  of  art  and 

*  The  difficulty  consists,  in  a  great  degree,  in  the  application  of  the  same 
words  to  music  as  it  acted  upon  the  senses  and  emotions,  and  to  music  as  it 
bore  upon  grammar,  and  language,  and  upon  all  that  range  of  knowledge,  which, 
giving  a  complete  polish  to  the  mind,  makes  Plato  call  his  perfect  philosopher 
a  perfect  musician.  (De  Rep.  1.  ix.)  Till  we  can  ascertain  from  Aristotle  more 
clearly  than  we  ever  shall  do,  (see  his  Politica,  lib.  viii  c.  5,  6,  7.)  what  were 
the  moral  harmonies  which  the  Greeks  applied  to  the  purposes  of  education — 
the  practical  harmonies,  the  application  of  which  is  wholly  uncertain — and  the 
sacred  melodies  which  were  directed  to  the  purgation  of  enthusiasm,  we  must 
be  content  to  remain  in  ignorance  of  that  revolution  in  music,  of  which  Aristo- 
phanes and  Plato  so  much  complain  as  taking  place  in  their  day,  and  which 
the  latter  declares,  was  alone  sufficient  to  shake  all  the  establishments  of  state 
to  their  centre.  There  is  some  obscurity  even  in  the  following  passages,  which 
describe  what  we  should  call  the  practical  effects  of  music  and  gymnastic  ex 
crcises ;  but  there  is  the  hand  of  a  master  in  the  description.  "  When  a  man 
allows  music  to  pipe  into  him,  and  to  make  use  of  his  ears,  like  funnels,  for  the 
Infusion  of  soft,  sweet  and  plaintive  harmonies;  when  he  passes  his  time  in  the 
titillations  of  those  soothing  enjoyments,  wliich  song  affords — what  courage  he 
had  in  him  becomes  softened  like  iron  ;  and  thus  losing  its  hardness,  it  becomes 
fitted  for  the  commerce  of  life :  but  if  this  delight  be  pursued  immoderately,  if 
this  iron  be  put  into  a  state  of  fusion,  the  courage  gradually  melts  away,  the 
nerves  of  the  soul  are  cut  out,  and  a  feeble  warriour  is  the  result  of  such  a  sys- 
tem of  conduct.  In  a  person  naturally  feeble,  this  result  would  naturally  be 
more  speedy  in  taking  place  :  in  one  of  a  naturally  courageous  soul,  nature  being 
weakened  and  rendered  easy  to  be  thrown  off  its  balance,  the  least  things  irritate 
and  soothe  him — and  instead  of  being  bold  and  resolute,  such  a  person  becomes 
passionate,  morose,  full  of  fantasies  and  a  troublesome  fastidiousness.  Again, 
if  a  person  give  himself  up  to  the  labours  of  the  gymnasium  and  to  feasts,  with- 
out attention  to  music  or  philosophy,  such  a  man  becomes  filled  with  high 
thoughts  and  courage,  and  exceeds  himself  in  bravery;  but  if  he  do  nothing  else, 
if  he  have  no  communication  with  the  Muses,  even  though  there  had  been  origi- 
nally a  love  of  learning  in  bis  mind,  yet  without  tasting  of  that  instruction  which 
is  gained  by  application,  by  inquiry  and  conversation,  he  becomes  weak,  and 
deaf,  and  blind,  like  a  man  that  is  never  awakened,  nor  nourished,  nor  that  has 
his  feelings  purified.  Such  a  man  becomes  a  hater  of  conversation  and  averse 
from  the  Muses:  in  his  language  he  uses  no  persuasion  ;  he  docs  everything, 
like  a  beast,  by  force  and  ferocity;  and  he  lives  in  ignorance  and  rudeness,  with- 
out any  accompaniment  of  grace  or  politeness." — The  Platonic  Socrates  therefore 
concludes,  that  the  gods  had  given  music  and  gymnastic  exercises  to  men,  that 
by  blending  the  two  properly  together  the  soul  might  be  made  perfect  in  its  two 
greatest  endowments,  a  temperate  courage  and  a  philosophic  understanding.  De 
Rpp.  lib.  iii. 


»0  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

beauty — which  has  generally  been  conceded  to  the  Greeks — we  may 
gather  from  the  observations  which  he  has  left  us,  most  unsparingly, 
upon  the  subject.  From  the  earliest  periods,  education  among  the 
greater  part  of  the  Athenians  seems  to  have  embraced  little  more  than 
the  circle  here  described :  and  till  the  age  of  Pericles,  the  three  great 
preceptors  of  Athenian  youth  remained  as  before ; — the  grammarian, 
the  teacher  of  music,  and  the  master  of  the  gymnasium.* 

But  there  \vere  some  minds  of  a  higher  cast  and  of  more  restless 
energies  than  to  be  satisfied  with  this  narrow  range  of  instruction ;  and 
the  same  shore  which  had  given  birth  to  the  great  father  of  Grecian 
poetry  had,  in  the  person  of  the  Milesian  Thales,  provided  a  preceptor, 
who  was  at  once  calculated  to  excite  and,  to  a  certain  extent,  to  gratify 
that  love  of  research  and  deep  and  curious  speculation,  which  seems  to 
have  been  at  least  inherent  in  the  Grecian  character,  as  a  love  of  poetry 
and  the  fine  arts.  How  congenial  these  pursuits  were  with  their  na- 
tional temperament  may  be  inferred  from  the  single  remark,  that  the 
fire  which  Thalesf  lighted  up,  has  never  since  been  extinguished  among 
them.  His  own  schoolj  was  followed  in  quick  succession  by  the  Ita- 
lian, and  Eleatic,§  where  physical  and  metaphysical  knowledge  were 
followed  with  equal  success  ;  and  the  dialogues  of  Plato  furnish  the 
most  ample  testimony  of  the  zeal  and  fervour  with  which  they  were 
pursued  in  Athens,  as  soon  as  a  respite  from  revolution  and  wars  gave 
leisure  for  their  introduction  into  that  inquisitive  town.  The  struggle 
which  the  Greek  philosophy  maintained  with  the  doctrines  of  Christi- 

*  Alcibiades,  the  nephew  of  the  first  man  in  Athens,  confesses  in  the  first  of 
those  dialogues,  which  go  by  his  name,  that  his  education  had  not  extended 
beyond  the  three  masters  here  mentioned.  Alcibiades,  lus.  26.  D.  E.  In  the 
time  of  Aristotle  we  find  painting  added  to  the  routine  of  education.  The  Sta- 
geirite  gives  two  reasons  for  the  addition  thus  made  to  the  old  range  of  instruc- 
tion— that  men  might  acquire  a  more  accurate  tact  in  estimating  the  beauty  of 
the  human  body,  and  that  they  might  not  be  cheated  in  the  purchase  or  sale  of  those 
domestic  ornaments  or  necessaries,  which  came  under  the  common  name  of  a-mvit. 
Arist.  de  Rep.  1.  viii.  c.  3. 

f  We  believe  we  might  go  much  farther  than  Thales  to  show  the  inherent 
passion  of  the  Greeks  for  physical  pursuits.  Many  of  their  earliest  mythical 
fables — Orpheus  with  his  seven-string'd  lyre — the  double  character  of  Tiresias 
— the  golden  ram  of  Phryxus — the  Thyestean  banquet,  etc.,  are  all  perhaps 
referable  to  astronomic  researches.  See  the  Treatise  de  Astrologia,  generally 
attributed  to  Lucian.  v.  5.  Bip.  ed. 

X  The  great  leaders  in  the  Ionian  school  (and  it  is  clear  from  the  writings  of 
Diogenes  Laertius  that  the  successions  were  very  accurately  observed)  were, 
from  the  time  of  its  foundation  by  Thales,  to  the  time  of  Socrates,  Anaximander, 
Anaximines,  Anaxagoras,  Diogenes  of  Apollonia,  and  Archelaus;  the  latter  was 
the  preceptor  of  Socrates. 

§  The  Eleatic,  properly  speaking,  was  a  branch  of  the  Italian  or  Pythagorean 
school. 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  21 

anity,  forms  one  of  the  great  partitions  between  the  old  world  and  the 
new ;  and  if  the  Greeks  paved  the  way  to  the  final  destruction  of  their 
country,  by  disputing  instead  of  fighting,  by  trying  to  settle  whether 
the  light  upon  Mount  Tabor  had  been  from  all  eternity,  or  had  been 
produced  by  God  for  the  purpose  of  the  Transfiguration,  this  has  not 
prevented  them  from  soothing  the  disgrace  of  political  degradation  by 
the  subtle  inquiries  and  neverending  debates  of  polemical  divinity. 
Can  we  be  altogether  surprized  at  it  in  a  nation,  which,  with  organs  the 
most  acute  and  perceptive,  possessed  a  language  that  could  express  every 
sensation ;  a  language,  as  the  historian  enthusiastically  expresses  it,  so 
musical  and  prolific,  that  it  could  give  a  soul  to  the  objects  of  sense,  and 
a  body  to  the  abstractions  of  metaphysics  ? — Those  lofty  but  dangerous 
speculations,  therefore,  in  which  the  strongest  minds  sometimes  be- 
come entangled,  and  in  which  weak  minds  are  sure  to  suffer  shipwreck, 
became  very  soon  the  favourite  studies  of  such  among  the  Greeks,  as 
were  possessed  of  leisure  and  had  a  curiosity  to  satisfy ;  and  God,  the 
Universe  and  Man  at  once  divided  and  engrossed  the  whole  of  their 
attention.  Their  facts  were  few,  but  their  disputes  were  long ;  if  they 
could  not  convince,  they  could  at  least  reason  :  one  absurdity  led  them 
to  another ;  but  every  absurdity  furnished  a  disputation  of  words,  and 
words,*  even  without  ideas,  were  as  the  breath  of  life  to  the  loquacious 
Athenians.  The  extravagant  expression  of  Lessing  would,  with  them, 
have  been  strictly  in  place :  If  the  Almighty  held  truth  in  one  hand,  and 
in  the  other  the  investigation  of  truth,  my  choice  would  rest  upon  the 
latter.  What  is  God  ?  the  philosophers  therefore  first  asked.  He  is 
the  most  ancient  of  all  things,  for  he  is  without  beginning,  said  Thales. 
He  is  air,  said  Anaximenes.  He  is  a  pure  mind,  said  Anaxagoras.  He 
is  air  and  mind,  said  Archelaus.  He  is  mind  in  a  spherical  form,  said 
Democritus.  He  is  a  monad  and  the  principle  of  good,  said  Pythagoras, 
He  is  an  eternal  circular  fire,  said  Heraclitus.  He  is  the  finite  and 
immoveable  principle  in  a  spherical  form,  said  Parmenides ;  he  is  one 


*  What  Plato  says  of  the  scholars  of  Heracleitus  no  doubt  applied  pretty  well 
to  all  the  philosophers.  "  It  is  as  easy  to  talk  with  madmen  as  it  is  w  ith  them. 
Their  writings  have  nothing  steady  in  them  :  all  are  in  a  state  of  perpetual  mo- 
tion. As  for  a  pause  in  disputation  and  interrogation,  or  a  quiet  question  or 
answer,  it  is  a  chance  infinitely  less  than  nothing,  that  you  get  such  a  thing 
from  them.  For  their  minds  are  in  a  perpetual  state  of  restlessness :  and  woe 
to  him  that  puts  a  question  to  them !  instantly  comes  a  flight  of  enigmatical 
little  words,  like  arrows  from  a  quiver;  and  if  you  ask  a  reason  of  this  assault, 
the  result  is  another  discharge,  with  merely  a  change  of  names.  There  is  no 
doing  any  thing  with  a  single  one  of  tliem ;  their  only  concern  being,  as  it 
should  seem,  that  nothing  fixed  or  stable  should  appear  either  in  their  language 
or  in  their  minds."  Thesetetus,  p.  130. 


22  PRELIMINARY    DISCOITRSE. 

and  every  thing,  said  Melissus  and  Zenon — the  only  eternal  and  infinite. 
These  were  subjects  on  which  the  profoundest  mind  might  have  disco- 
vered the  most  ample  exercise  for  itself;  but  to  the  Greek,  a  vacuity 
was  still  left:  Necessity,  Fate  and  Fortune  or  Accident  filled  it  up. 

The  Universe  furnished  another  set  of  disputations.  What  is,  has 
ever  been,  and  the  world  is  eternal,  said  one  party.  The  world  is  not 
eternal,  but  the  matter  is  eternal,  argued  another  party.  Was  this  matter 
susceptible  of  forms  ;  of  one  or  many  ?  was  it  water,  or  air,  or  fire  ? 
was  it  an  assemblage  of  atoms,  or  an  infinite  number  of  incorruptible 
elements  ?  Had  this  matter  subsisted  without  movement  in  chaos,  or 
had  it  an  irregular  movement  ?  Did  the  world  appear  by  Intelligence 
communicating  its  action  to  it,  or  did  God  ordain  it  by  penetrating  it 
with  a  part  of  his  essence  ?  Did  these  atoms  move  in  the  void,  and  was 
the  universe  the  result  of  their  fortuitous  union  ?  Are  there  but  two 
elements  in  nature,  earth  and  fire,  and  by  these  are  all  things  formed 
and  produced;  or  are  there  four  elements,  whose  parts  are  united  by 
Love  and  separated  by  Hatred  ?  Causes  and  essences,  bodies,  forms 
and  colours,  production  and  dissolution,  the  great  phaenomena  of  visible 
nature ;  the  magnitudes,  figures,  eclipses  and  phases  of  the  two  hea- 
venly luminaries  ;  the  nature  and  division  of  the  sky;  the  magnitude 
and  situation  of  the  earth;  the  sea  with  its  ebbs  and  flows;  the  causes 
of  thunder,  lightning,  winds  and  earthquakes — all  these  furnished  dis- 
quisitions, which  were  pursued  with  an  eagerness  of  research  and  in- 
tenseness  of  application,  peculiar  to  the  Greeks.  Man,  a  compound  of 
matter  and  of  mind — having  relations  to  the  universe  by  the  former,  and 
to  the  Eternal  Being  by  the  latter — presented  phaenomena  and  contra- 
dictions, as  puzzling  to  the  old  philosophers,  as  the  universe  of  which 
he  was  the  abridgment.  While  all  allowed  him  a  soul  and  an  intelli- 
gence, all  differed  widely  in  their  definition  of  this  soul  or  intelligence. 
It  is  always  in  motion  and  it  moves  by  itself,  said  one  party — it  is  a 
number  in  motion — it  is  the  liarmony  of  the  four  elements — it  is  air,  it 
is  water,  it  is  fire,  it  is  blood — it  is  a  fiery  mixture  of  things  perceptible 
by  the  intellect,  which  have  globose  shapes  and  the  force  of  fire — it  is 
a  flame  which  emanates  from  the  sun — it  is  an  assemblage  of  fiery  and 
spherical  atoms,  like  those  subtle  particles  of  matter,  which  are  seen 
agitated  in  the  rays  of  the  sun. 

Such  were  a  few  of  the  speculations,  which  science  had  devised,  for 
employing  the  thoughts  of  active-minded  men  in  Greece ;  and  if  the 
mere  enumeration  of  them  on  paper  (without  entering  into  the  thousand 
shades  and  differences  which  had  all  their  separate  promulgators,  advo- 
cates and  abettors)  have  excited  either  a  smile  or  a  sensation  of  weari- 
someness  in  a  reader,  he  may  imagine  what  must  have  been  their  eflfects 
upon  a  man  of  lively  and  mercurial  temperament,  like  Aristophanes, 
who  found  them  crossing  his  path  at  every  turn,  and  saw  them  opera- 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  23 

ting  with  the  most  ridiculous  effects  upon  the  petulance  of  the  lively,* 
and  the  conduct  of  the  more  sedate  ! 

The  hold  which  the  philosophers  properly  so  called  according  to  our 
nomenclature,  acquired  over  the  public  mind  at  Athens  was  gradual, 
and  perhaps  at  all  times  partial ;  that  which  a  much  more  pernicious 
class  of  men,  known  since  by  the  name  of  Sophists,  assumed,  was 
instantaneous,  and  almost  universal ;  the  very  causes  which  operated 
against  the  introduction  of  philosophy,  tending  to  encourage  and  give 
entrance  to  the  precepts  of  the  sophists.  The  busy  and  stirring  nature 
of  the  times,  the  change  from  monarchical  to  republican  governments, 
the  institution  of  popular  assemblies,  and  still  more  the  Persian  contest, 
by  making  the  Greeks  act  in  bodies,  where  feelings  were  to  be  conci- 

*  Plato,  whose  satirica]  powers  were  not  inferior  to  those  of  Aristophanes, 
has  described  both  these  classes  of  persons  with  great  effect.  In  the  dialogue, 
called  Pliilebus,  the  Platonic  Socrates  is  thus  made  to  speak.  "  Our  passion  for 
disputation  upon  subjects  of  this  kind  has  something  in  it,  which  is  beyond  the 
reach  of  decay  or  mortality.  No  sooner  does  one  of  our  young  men  get  a  taste  of 
it,  than  he  feels  delighted,  as  if  he  had  discovered  a  treasure  of  wisdom.  Carried 
away  by  a  pleasure  that  amounts  to  madness,  he  finds  a  subject  of  dispute  in  every 
thing  that  occurs.  At  one  time  both  sides  of  the  subject  are  considered,  and  re- 
duced to  one.  At  another,  the  subject  is  analysed  and  split  into  parts  :  himself 
becomes  the  first  and  principal  victim  of  his  own  doubts  and  difiiculties:  his  neigh- 
bour, whether  junior,  senior,  or  equal,  no  matter,  is  the  next  suflerer;  he  spares 
not  father  nor  mother,  nor  any  one  who  will  give  him  the  loan  of  his  ears ;  scarcely 
animals  escape  him,  and  much  less  his  fellow-creatures;  even  the  foreigner  has 
no  security  but  the  want  of  an  interpreter  at  hand  to  go  between  them."  (Phile- 
bus,  p.  74.)  The  graver  men  are  pursued  with  the  same  severity,  and  it  is  observ- 
able that  Socrates  addresses  them  in  the  same  strain  of  ridicule,  and  nearly  in  the 
words,  which  twenty-three  years  before,  the  author  of  the  Clouds  had  bestowed 
upon  himself. — "  From  their  earliest  days  they  knew  not  the  way  to  the  Agora, 
nor  can  they  tell  where  are  the  courts  of  justice,  or  the  senatehouse,  or  any  of  the 
places  of  public  meeting  in  the  city ;  as  for  the  laws  and  public  decrees — whether 
those  proniulg?.ted  by  the  voice,  or  those  committed  to  writing — they  have  neither 
eyes  for  the  one,  nor  ears  for  the  other.  Clubs,  and  meetings,  and  suppers, 
and  jovial  parties,  where  there  are  musicwomen,  are  things  which  never  come 
before  them  even  in  a  dream.  Whether  things  go  well  or  ill  in  the  city,  whether 
a  man's  ancestors,  either  on  the  male  or  female  side,  have  been  the  cause  of 
any  calamity  to  him,  are  matters  of  which  they  are  as  much  in  the  dark,  as  they 
are  of  the  number  of  sands  which  lie  by  the  seaside.  They  are  even  so  far 
gone,  as  not  to  know  that  they  are  ignorant  of  all  this.  Nor  does  this  proceed 
from  any  peculiar  feeling  or  notion  of  vanity;  but  in  fact,  with  a  man  of  this 
kind,  it  is  the  body  only  which  is  resident  in  the  city  :  his  mind  holds  matters 
of  this  kind  as  trifles,  or  rather  as  things  utterly  without  value,  and  is,  as  Pindar 
terms  it,  for  ever  on  the  wing :  to  what  is  upon  the  earth  and  below  the  earth, 
he  applies  the  science  of  geometry;  what  is  in  the  heavens  he  investigates  by 
astronomy;  he  scrutinises  and  searches  the  whole  universe,  and  knows  every 
thing  but  that  which  is  immcdidtely  before  him."  Theaetetus,  VZl. 


24  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

liated,  prejudices  consulted,  and  large  sacrifices  of  private  interest  to  be 
demanded  in  favour  of  public,  all  conspired  to  bring  into  vogue  a  know- 
ledge more  adapted  to  the  transaction  of  human  business,  than  the  study 
of  the  heavens,  and  the  properties  of  matter,  the  nature  of  God  and  the 
soul.  The  successful  termination  of  that  most  important  struggle,  the 
temporary  quiet  which  resulted  from  it,  and  the  measures  which  were 
taken  to  provide  against  the  recurrence  of  a  similar  event,  by  bringing 
the  different  states  of  Greece  still  more  into  contact  with  each  other, 
naturally  assisted  the  progress  of  this  desire  for  intellectual  improve- 
ment :  political  wisdom  soon  became  the  leading  object  of  attainment ; 
and  the  splendid  eminence  to  which  political  eloquence  led,  made  it 
of  essential  importance  to  investigate  and  cultivate  those  rules  which 
were  found  most  effectual  for  working  upon  large  bodies  of  men.  It 
is  impossible  to  peruse  the  interesting  dialogues  of  Plato  and  Xeno- 
phon,  without  receiving  the  most  lively  impression  of  the  strong  fer- 
ment, which  was  then  taking  place  in  men's  minds,  and  without  re- 
cognizing in  them  some  of  the  marks  of  that  agitated  fermentation  of 
the  intellect,  which,  whether  for  good  or  evil,  is  working  in  our  own 
days.  To  be  able  to  distinguish  themselves  in  the  General  Assem- 
blies— to  make  a  figure  in  the  courts  of  justice — to  be  ingenious  in 
putting  and  ready  in  answering  questions — and  what,  in  the  now 
complicated  affairs  of  Grecian  politics,  was  becoming  of  still  more 
importance,  to  become  men  of  business*  was  the  ruling  object  of 
every  young  man's  ambition  in  Athens.  The  example  of  Pericles  had 
taught  experimentally  the  advantage  of  a  union  of  the  deeper  knowledge 
of  philosophyt  with  the  rich  gifts  of  nature ;  and  the  splendid  prize, 

*  What  was  required  of  a  man  of  business  in  the  management  of  Athenian 
aflfairs,  will  be  best  learnt  by  perusing  the  fourth  chapter  of  Aristotle's  first  book 
of  Rhetoric,  the  admirable  little  dialogue  between  Glaucon  and  Socrates  in 
Xenophon's  Memorabilia,  and  the  speech  of  Demosthenes  de  Corona.  "  Ha- 
ranguing," as  Lord  Bolingbroke  observes,  in  allusion  to  the  immense  variety  of 
business  which  passed  through  the  hands  of  that  acutest  of  statesmen,  "  was,  at 
this  time,  the  least  part  of  the  business  of  Demosthenes ;  and  eloquence  neither 
the  sole,  nor  the  principal  talent,  as  the  style  of  writers  would  induce  us  to  be- 
lieve, on  which  his  success  depended.  He  must  have  been  master  of  other  arts, 
subservient  to  which  his  eloquence  was  employed  ;  and  must  have  had  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  his  own  state,  and  of  the  other  states  of  Greece;  of  their  disposi- 
tions, and  of  their  interests,  relatively  to  one  another  and  relatively  to  their 
neighbours :  I  say,  he  must  have  been  master  of  many  other  arts,  and  have  pos- 
sessed an  immense  fund  of  knowledge,  to  make  his  eloquence  in  every  case 
successful,  and  even  pertinent  and  seasonable  in  some,  as  well  as  to  direct  and 
furnish  it  with  matter,  whenever  he  thought  fit  to  employ  that  weapon." — Lord 
Bolingbroke  on  the  Spirit  of  Patriotism. 

]  Pericles  had  been  a  scholar  of  Anaxagoras ;  and  from  his  intercourse  with 
that  philosopher,  to  whom  is  attributed  the  first  conception  of  one  Eternal,  Al- 
mighty, and  All-good  Being,  he  is  said  by  Plato  (in  Phaedro,  351  D.)  to  have 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  il5 

which  had  for  so  many  years  been  the  reward  of  his  profound  accom- 
plishments, seems  to  have  stood  before  the  eyes  of  his  young  and  ad- 
miring fellow-countrymen  till  it  absolutely  dazzled  and  blinded  them. 
All  wished  to  be  like  Perich^s — all  would  be  at  the  head  of  public  affairs 
— all  would  command  men,  and  have  their  fame  spread,  like  his  fame, 
and  that  of  Themistocles,  from  their  own  city  to  Greece,  and  from 
Greece  to  the  remotest  regions  of  barbarism.  But  how  was  this  know- 
ledge to  be  acquired  ? — For  those  of  5'ounger  years  there  was  no  defi- 
ciency of  masters  in  tliose  branches,  which  formed  the  system  of  edu- 
cation in  Athens;  but  for  young  men  of  riper  age,  w!io  had  passed 
through  the  hands  of  the  grammarian  and  the  music-master,  and  acquired 
that  limited  knowledge  of  arithmetic,*  geometry,  history,  and  astrono- 
my, whicli  the  then  state  of  seicnce  could  supply,  no  establishments, 
like  our  universities,!  were  in  being,  where  fiirlhcr  opportunities  were 

dorived  that  forcible  and  sublime  spirit  of  oratory,  which  distinguislieJ  him 
above  all  his  contemporaries.  For  an  account  of  Anaxagoras  sec  Brueker's 
chapter  do  Secta  lonica,  §  xix.  The  learned  German,  who  might  have  been 
expected,  from  the  bulk  of  his  enormous  tomes,  to  have  thmig^:!  away  all  feeling, 
becomes  almost  affecting  in  his  account  of  this  real  and  most  enthusiastic  philo- 
sopher. 

*  Plato  insists  very  strongly  upon  the  cullivalion  of  these  branches  of  science 
(his  love  for  arithmetic,  in  particular,  is  well  known)  in  the  course  of  instruction 
provided  for  his  imaginary  republic ;«  but  he  does  it  less  with  any  view  to  prac- 
tical purposes,  than  as  means  of  disciplining  the  mind  and  preparing  it  for  the 
power  of  contemplating  things  in  their  essences,  the  favourite  object  of  the  Pla- 
tonic doctrine,     See  the  7th  hook  of  the  Republic;  also  the  epinomis. 

f  Something  like  them  did  afterwards  exist,  in  the  Lyceum,  the  Academy, 
and  those  other  establishments  for  the  "  education  chainpetre"  of  the  Athenians, 
of  which  M.  de  Pauw  speaks  in  such  rapturous  terms.  This  gentleman,  who 
often  makes  his  readers  pay  for  the  valuable  knowledge  he  communicates  by  the 
manner  in  which  it  is  conveyed,  or  the  remarks  by  which  it  is  accompanied,  has 
made  their  establishment  a  vehicle  for  throwing  out  a  most  insulting  taunt  upon 
one  of  our  own  academical  institutions.  M.  de  Pauw  is  not  now  living  to  know, 
that  Oxford  has  adopteil  a  course  of  education  which  will  enable  her  nobly  to 
repel  all  such  insinuations  in  future;  and  that  tlie  reproaches  of  former  days  are 
but  so  many  tributes  of  applause  to  the  wisdom  and  energy  by  which  the  pi;r- 
suits  of  that  illustrious  university  are  now  directed  and  animated. — liec/ierches 
riiilosop/iifjues  siir  ks  Grccs.     Discours  Freliminuire,  p.  11. 

a  The  common  term,  by  which  readers  call  that  work  of  Plato,  the  most  bril- 
liant effort  of  his  genius,  as  his  legislation  was  the  most  perfect  of  his  mature 
judgment,  is  here  used  ;  but  every  scholar  is  aware,  that  a  republic  ranked  in 
Plato's  mind  only  one  degree  above  a  perfect  despotism ;  the  most  perfeci  go- 
vernment, according  to  this  great  j)hilosrpher,  was  a  monarchy,  or  aristocracy. 
It  was  not  very  likely  indeed,  that  a  person,  wlio  ranked  a  capacity  for  politics 
with  poetry  and  prophecy,  and  considered  all  three  as  immediate  inspirations 
from  heaven,  (in  Men.  24.  D.)  should  have  drawn  bis  ideas  of  a  perfect  go- 
vernment from  the  fractional  sovereigiis  under  whom  it  was  his  own  miserable 
fate  to  l)c  born. 

4 


26  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

held  out  to  that  dangerous  age,  when  a  course  of  instruction,  fitted  to 
fill  and  enlarge  the  mind,  to  form  the  taste,  and  what  is  still  more  im- 
portant, to  perfect  the  morals,  becomes  so  imperiously  necessary.  But 
where  a  want  is  felt  in  society,  it  is  not  long  before  some  one  starts  up 
to  supply  it;  and  a  race  of  men  soon  made  their  way  into  Athens,  who, 
under  the  name  of  Sophists,  undertook  to  supply  all  deficiencies  of 
schools,  halls,  and  colleges.  The  first  person  who  actjuired  distinction 
in  this  profession,  suflicient  to  make  his  name  known  to  posterity,  and 
to  have  an  influence  upon  the  age  in  which  he  lived,  was  Protagoras 
of  Abdera.  Originally  a  faggot-maker,  his  mode  of  tying  up  bundles 
excited  the  attention  of  Democritus ;  and  the  instructions  of  that  philo- 
sopher subsequently  enabled  him  to  quit  a  trade,  in  which  he  might 
have  been  humbly  useful,  for  a  profession  in  which  he  unfortunately 
became  splendidly  mischievous.  Tlie  human  mind  never  losing  alto- 
gether the  impression  of  its  first  employments,  the  inventor  of  the  por- 
ter's knot  became  also  the  discoverer  of  the  knots  of  language ;  and 
accordingly,  to  Protagoras  is  ascribed  the  pernicious  proclamation, 
which  announced,  that  with  him  might  be  acquired,  for  a  proper  com- 
pensation, that  species  of  knowledge,  which  was  able  to  confound  right 
and  wrong,  and  make  the  worse  appear  the  better  cause:  a  doctrine 
which  strikes  us  with  amazement  and  confusion,  but  which  was  propa- 
gated with  such  success,  that  in  the  days  of  Aristophanes  and  Plato  it 
appears  to  have  excited  little  surprise  in  those  who  professed  it,  and  to 
have  been  rather  expected  than  otherwise  in  such  persons  as  set  them- 
selves up  for  teachers  of  wisdom.  Bred  in  the  school  of  philosophy, 
(if  Schelling  will  allow  us  to  make  use  of  so  unphilosophical  an  ex- 
pression,) which  taught  that  tliere  was  nothing*  fixed  in  nature,  this 
flagitious  sophist  carried  the  uncertain  and  dangerous  language  of  phy- 
sics into  the  business  of  human  life,  and  thus  poisoned  the  stream  of 
truth  in  its  very  fountain  and  source.  The  direct  language  of  Thales, 
Epicharmus,  and  Heraclcitus,  and  the  allegorical  genealogies  of  Homer 
were  brought  to  prove,  that  all  things  being  in  a  state  of  continual  mo- 
tion, nothing  actually  is,  and  every  thing  is  in  a  state  of  becoming : 
that  an  object  therefore,  considered  in  itself,  is  not  one  thing  more  than 
another;  but  that  through  motion,  mixture,  and  the  relation  of  one  thing 
to  another,  the  same  object  both  ivas  and  appeared  one  thing  to  one 
person,  and  another  thing  to  another.  What  are  called  heat  and  cold, 
changed  their  situations,  it  was  said,  even  in  the  time  of  pronouncing 
the  words;  and  before  the  enunciation  was  completed,  heat  ceased  to 
be  heat,  and  cold  ceased  to  be  cold — nothing,  therefore,  it  was  inferred, 
can  be  affirmed  or  even  seen  with  certainty:  heat  is  no  more  heat  than 
cold,  white  is  not  more  white  than  its  opposite,  knowledge  is  nothing 

*  Panuenides  and  Melissus  taught  just  the  reverse. 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  27 

more  than  sensation,  man  is  the  measure  of  all  things,  of  things  existing, 
existing  as  they  are,  and  of  things  non-existing,  as  they  are  not,  and  all 
thoughts  are  true.  For  every  one  thinks  according  to  the  impression 
made  upon  him,  impressions  are  made  by  what  is  in  motion,  motion  is 
created  by  agency,  agency  can  proceed  only  from  the  things  which  are, 
and  the  things  which  are,  must  be  true.  From  these  sentiments  it  natu- 
rally followed,  that  not  only  what  is  wholesome  and  useful  had  no  actual 
substance  in  themselves  ;  but  that  honour  and  virtue,  being  the  beginning 
and  aim  of  what  is  useful  existed  only  in  the  opinions  and  habits  of  men. 

To  controvert  these  opinions  was  a  task  of  no  easy  kind :  for  the 
author  of  them  maintained  that  it  was  not  merely  impossible  to  say 
what  was  false,  but  even  to  think  what  was  false.  He  gravely  asserted 
that  there  was  no  such  thing  as  a  false  opinion,  and  that  ignorance  was  a 
thing  physically  impossible ;  and  he  allowed  that  it  being  impossible  for 
a  person  to  lie,  or  to  hold  a  wrong  opinion,  or  even  to  be  ignorant,  it  fol- 
lowed that  there  was  no  such  tiling  as  aberration  in  word,  thought,  or 
action.  A  puzzling  question  sometimes  met  the  assertors  of  these  opi- 
nions;  viz.  what,  in  such  a  state  of  perfection,  remained  for  themselves 
to  teach  :  but  this  was  got  rid  of  by  abuse,  or  by  a  piece  of  sophistry, 
which  put  an  end  to  all  disputation  in  limine,  They  maintained  that 
there  was  no  such  thing  as  contradiction,  or  that  a  man  could  demonstrate 
that  he  had  ever  heard  tnc  man  contradicting  another;  for,  said  the  au- 
thor of  these  opinions,  or  his  disciples  for  him,  every  existing  thing  has 
its  own  proper  definitions,  and  these  definitions  are,  as  every  thing  is, 
and  not  as  it  is  not:  nobody  therefore  speaks  the  thing  which  is  not,  for 
nobody  can  saj'-  the  thing  whicli  is  not  in  existence.  They  further  put 
two  cases  :  if  each  of  us,  said  they,  in  defining  the  same  thing  coincide 
in  our  definition,  it  is  plain  that  we  both  agree  in  opinion  ;  but  if  our 
definitions  upon  the  same  thing  vary,  it  is  so  far  from  being  a  disagree- 
ment of  ideas  upon  a  subject,  that  neither  of  us  can  properly  be  said  to 
have  started  the  subject:  since  I,  therefore,  concluded  the  triumphant 
sophist,  define  one  thing,  and  you  another,  what  contradiction  is  there 
between  us  ? — May  it  not  rather  be  asserted,  that  I  speak  of  a  tiling, 
and  that  you  advance  nothing  about  it  ?  and  how  can  he  who  says 
nothing  be  said  to  contradict  him  who  says  something  ? 

In  such  a  town  as  Athens,  we  may  easily  imagine  that  the  small  wits 
and  humbler*  sophists  eagerly  fastened  upon  doctrines,  so  well  suited 

*  Plato  has  left  us  a  most  amusing  specimen  in  his  dialogue  called  Euthyde- 
mus,  of  the  smaller  craft  of  sophists,  who  confined  themselves  to  this  legerde- 
main of  language,  and  who  contented  themselves  with  offering  that  insult, 
which  the  understanding  feels  at  being  confuted  but  not  convicted;  at  finding 
that  words  are  against  it,  and  things  for  it ;  at  feeling  that  it  cannot  yield  to 
conclusions  apparently  true,  without  violence  to  thai  plain  sense  of  right,  which 
is  the  voice  of  the  Divinity  within  us,  and  worth  all  ihc  systems  of  logic  that 
ever  were  invented.  A  brief  analysis  of  this  lively  dialogue  will  contribute  very 


28  rRELIWIXARY    DISCOURSE. 

to  the  meridian  of  their  capacities,  as  those  wliicli  are  here  ascribed  to 
the  philosopher  of  Abdera.     When  the  great  Belial  himself  first  began 

mucli  to  g-ive  the  reader  a  picture  of  the  times  and  of  tlie  manner  in  which  the 
education  of  the  young  Athenians  of  family  was  conducted.  The  impudent 
sophist  from  whom  the  dialogue  derives  its  name,  was  one  of  two  brothers  who 
had  gained  considerable  reputation  by  giving  lessons  in  tactics  and  other  branches 
of  knowledge  connected  with  a  military  life.  They  found  it  more  profitable, 
however,  to  change  the  war  of  weapons  for  that  of  words,  and  to  prepare  scho- 
lars for  the  arena  of  the  Ecclesia  and  courts  of  law,  in  preference  to  disciplining 
them  for  the  field  of  battle.  Tlie  dialogue  commences  with  one  of  those  natural 
touches,  wliieh  give  an  air  of  reality  to  a  picture,  and  which  Plato,  like  all  other 
men  of  genius,  is  fond  of  u«ing.  Socrates,  meeting  his  first  and  most  excellent 
friend  Criton,  is  questioned  by  him  as  to  the  person  with  whom  he  had  been 
seen  holding  a  disputation  in  the  Lyceum  the  day  before.  There  was  a  great 
crowd,  says  the  worthy  questionists  ;  so  that  though  I  advanced  as  closely  as 
possible,  with  an  eager  desire  to  hear  what  was  passing,  I  was  unable  to  under- 
stand any  thing  distinctly.  By  raising  my  head  above  the  rest,  I  got  a  view 
indeed,  and  as  far  as  I  could  discern,  it  was  no  native  of  the  city  with  whom 
you  were  disputing.  This  affords  an  opening  to  the  dialogue  : — the  name  of  the 
stranger  (Euthydemus,) — of  his  brother,  who  assisted  in  the  disputation  (Dio- 
nysodorus,) — their  former  profession  and  their  present  pursuits,  are  recorded  in 
due  order.  Socrates  then  proceeds  to  answer  Criton's  second  question,  which 
implied  a  wish  to  know  the  subject  of  the  disputation.  "  By  the  influence  of 
some  god,"  says  the  philosopher,  "  it  was  my  lot  to  be  sitting  where  you  saw 
me,  in  the  Apodyterium;  (the  place  where  the  young  Athenians,  preparing  for 
the  exercises  of  the  palaestra,  deposited  their  clothes;)  I  had  the  place  entirely 
to  myself,  and  indeed  I  was  just  thinking  of  leaving  it,  when,  as  I  rose  up,  the 
usual  signal  from  the  daemon  took  place.  (What  the  daemon  of  Socrates  was, 
whether  a  real  spirit,  a  vision,  a  voice,  an  immediate  inspiration  from  the  Deity, 
or  that  inward  feeling,  which  by  continued  reflections  upon  the  past  and  future 
gives  the  wise  man  something  like  a  prophetic  sensation  of  what  ought  to  be 
done,  this  is  not  the  place  to  inquire.)  Attentive  to  this  impulse,"  continues  the 
philosopher,  "I  immediately  gave  up  my  intention  of  going  away:" — his  com- 
pliance was  duly  rewarded ;  for  it  was  followed  by  the  almost  immediate  en- 
trance of  Euthydemus  and  Dionysodorus,  attended  by  a  large  crowd  of  scholars. 
The  sophists  having  taken  two  or  three  turns  in  the  hypodrome,  or  covered 
porch  where  the  wrestlers  practised  their  exercises  in  winter,  Cleinias,  a  young 
person  in  whose  education  Socrates  took  an  interest,  and  a  great  deal  of  other 
.company  drop  in.  Greetings  and  salutations  pass  between  the  parties:  a  slight 
skirmish  of  irony  on  the  side  of  Socrates,  and  of  contempluousness  on  the  part 
of  the  sophists,  soon  leads  the  way  to  a  more  direct  engagement,  and  an  assertion 
made  by  the  two  sophists,  that  virtue  could  be  made  a  subject  of  instruction,  at 
last  brings  the  parties  to  close  quarters.  Cleinias  is  proposed  as  a  pupil,  on 
whom  the  efficacy  of  this  boasted  annunciation  may  be  tried,  and  the  sophists, 
with  the  usual  confidence  of  their  class,  engage  to  make  their  words  perfectly 
good.  A  question  accordingly  is  put  to  the  young  man  by  way  of  making  trial 
<of  his  abilities,  and  be  is  asked,  which  class  of  men  are  to  be  called  learners, 
.h.e  wise  or  the  unlearned'?    At  this  important  question,  says  the  satirical  nar- 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  29 

to  advance  them,  and  more  particularly  those  odious  ones,  which  ought 
to  heap  the  curses  of  posterity  upon  his  head ;  viz.  the  doctrine  of  sen- 

rator,  the  youncr  ir.an  blushed  and  turned  his  eyes  to  me  in  a  state  of  hesitation . 
The  desired  encouragement,  however,  was  given  by  Socrates  to  his  young  friend; 
Dionysodorus  whispering  the  former  with  a  smile  on  his  countenance,  that  it 
was  immaterial  which  side  of  the  question  the  youth  took,  as  he  would  be 
equally  confuted  on  the  spot.     The  reader  will,  after  such  an  annunciation, 
think  it  immaterial  to  know  which  side  was  first  taken ;  the  result  was  as  Dio- 
nysodorus had  predicted,  and  the  conviction  of  Cleinias  is  followed  by  a  fremitus 
of  applause  from  the  two  sophists  and  their  friends.     The  question  in  its  other 
shape  meets  with  the  same  ill  success  on  the  part  of  the  young  disputant,  and 
a  roar  of  approbation  and  triumph  again  breaks  forth  from  the  opposing  party; 
resemblinsr,  says  the  narrator,  the  laughter  of  a  Chouus,  whose  leader  has  given 
them  the  signal  for  most  obstreperous  mirth.     Some  other  puzzling,  or  as  the 
original  terms  them  in  a  sense  which  our  language  does  not  altogether  convey, 
*'  inevitable"  questions  succeed  this  successful  one  ;  the  two  brothers  alternately 
taking  up  the  ball,  till  the  young  man  finds  himself  utterly  thrown  by  this  new 
species  of  wrestling.     Socrates  then  comes  to  his  help;  he  points  out  to  him 
the  fallacies  of  the  terms  by  which  he  has  been  thus  ignominiously  worsted, 
and  assures  him  that  what  had  hitherto  passed  was  but  a  little  playfulness 
on  the  part  of  the  sophists,  resembling  the  wantonness  of  those  wags,  who  fake 
a  man's  chair  from  under  him  when  he  is  preparing  to  sit  down,  and  then  laugh 
at  the  awkwardness  to  which  it  reduces  him  ;  he  assures  him  that  the  rest  of 
the  disputation  will  be  carried  on  with  that  seriousness  and  propriety,  which 
were  due  to  the  discussion  of  an  inquiry  so  important,  as  that  which  endeavoured 
to  ascertain,  by  what  methods  a  young  man  may  best  be  led  into  the  paths 
of  virtue  and  wisdom,  and  he  proceeds  to  relieve  the  preceding  impertinences 
of  the  sophists  by  one  of  his  own  beautiful  discourses.     In  this  disquisition, 
after  defining  happiness  by   the  common  notion,   that  it  consists   in    living 
agreeably,  he    proves   that   living   agreeably  must  depend    upon  gaining  the 
objects  of  our  wishes  and  using  them  rightly;  and  he  concludes  by  a  set  of 
inductions,  the  tendency  of  which  is  to   show  that  as  by  wisdom  alone  such 
wishes  can  be  effected,  and  used  rightly,  the  just  inference  is  that  nothing  can 
make  us  happy  but  wisdom.     This  impressive  discourse  ended,  the  dialogue 
returns  again  to  a  display  of  sophistical  skill  on  the  part  of  Euthydemns  and 
Dionysodorus,  and  the  spirit  of  the  piece  is  kept  up  with  the  most  unabated 
animation  to  the  end.     By  the  help  of  certain  fallacies,  which  our  language  does 
not  present  adequate  means  of  representing,  the  sophists  prove  to  their  own 
satisfaction  that  if  a  man  knew  one  thing  be  knew  evcri/  thing:  curriery,  house- 
building, stitching,  shoemaking,  dancing,  sworddiving,  whoelturning — nothing 
was  beyond  his  knowledge :  they  profess  that  themselves  are  proofs  of  the  truth 
of  this  assertion,  and  are  only  induced  to  abate  their  confidence  by  being  made 
to  see  that  neither  of  them  knew  how  many  teeth  the  other  had  in  his  mouth. 
As  if  this  universal   knowledge  were  insufficient,  they  prove  to  their  fellow- 
disputant,  who  was  no  other  than  Socrates,  that  he  possessed  all  this  knowledge 
when  a  boy — at  the  moment  of  his  birth — before  his  birth,  nay,  before  the  crea- 
tion of  the  earth  and  heavens  ;  and  they  demonstrate  that  as  this  universal  know- 
ledge had  belonged  to  him  in  all  preceding  times,  so  it  rested  merely  upon  their 


30  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

sation,  and  the  offer  to  teach,  how  in  disputation  the  worse  cause  might 
be  made  to  appear  the  better,  we  cannot  say :  but  we  find  it  declared 
by  Socrates  that  the  hoary  impostor  had  for  a  space  of  more  than  forty 
years  been  advancing  them,  and  that  from  the  practice  of  this  baneful 
trade  he  had  derived  more  gains  than  Pheidias  and  ten  sculptors  to  boot. 
— So  much  more  agreeable  to  Athenian  minds,  it  should  seem,  were 
cunning  trick,  fallacy  and  deception,  than  those  noble  specimens  of  art, 
which  were  then  growing  up  among  them,  and  on  whose  mutilated  re- 
mains, the  more  accomplished  of  our  own  countrymen  are  too  happy 
to  fix  their  eyes  in  fervent  *admiration ! 

The  market  was  now  successfully  opened  and  adventurers  of  a  simi- 

good  will  to  cause  it  to  remain  with  him  to  all  succeeding  generations.  They 
proceed  to  show  that  a  man  could  be  silent  and  speak  at  the  same  time ;  that  it 
was  all  one  to  them  to  prove  that  a  man  knew  a  thing  or  did  not  know  a  thing, 
or  that  he  both  knew  and  did  not  know  a  thing  at  the  same  time; — they  convince 
their  disputant  that  he  had  a  father — that  he  had  no  father — that  a  dog  was  his 
father — that  his  father  was  everybody's  father — that  his  mother  had  an  ofTspring 
equally  numerous,  and  that  in  this  happy  family,  horses,  pigs,  and  crabfish  were 
all  common  brethren,  with  the  same  rights  and  ties  of  consanguinity  and  affection. 
Being  told  that  the  beautiful  is  created  by  the  presence  of  beauty,  they  argue, 
that  by  approximation  to  a  hull,  a  man  becomes  a  bull ;  that  Socrates  is  no  more 
Socrates  than  Cleinias,  nor  Cleinias  than  Socrates,  and  that  Socrates  and  Clei- 
nias  are  one  and  the  same  person.  Laying  hold  upon  those  constructions  of 
language,  which  our  more  imperfect  idioms  do  not  admit,  they  prove  that  in 
cutting  up  a  butcher  and  boiling  him  there  is  no  injury  committed,  and  that  it 
is  both  decent  and  becoming  to  solder  a  brazier  in  his  own  brass,  and  to  glue 
up  a  potter  in  his  own  pottery.  But  it  is  felt  that  this  trifling  was  more  agree- 
able to  the  original  promulgators  and  auditors  of  it,  than  it  Can  be  made  to  a 
modern  reader ;  and,  I  fear,  that  a  sense  of  weariness  must  be  stealing  over  him 
at  these  specimens  of  sophistry,  which  were  delivered,  as  Plato  informs  us, 
amid  such  peals  of  laughter  and  such  exuberance  of  exultation,  that  the  very 
pillars  of  the  Lyceum  seemed  to  join  in  the  triumphant  jubilee. 

*  It  may  be  noticed  as  somewhat  remarkable,  that  the  great  contemporary 
writers,  who  grew  up  among  the  very  creation  of  these  truly  magnificent  labours, 
scarcely  ever  condescended  to  mention  any  thing  more  than  the  mere  names  of 
the  author  of  them.  The  great  comic  poet  of  his  day  refers  to  them  as  often  as 
anybody;  and  there  is  one  passage  in  his  works  which,  as  characteristic  of  the 
times,  may  deserve  to  be  mentioned.  Among  the  innumerable  statues  in  Athens, 
not  one,  it  appears,  was  to  be  found  dedicated  to  that  allegorical  divinity,  which 
the  Greeks  call  'AiJw,  and  for  which  our  nearest,  but  very  unequal  term,  is 
Modesty.  As  no  statue  of  this  divinity  was  in  being,  the  poet  cautions  his 
young  auditors  to  build  up  a  statue  to  it  in  their  own  breasts.  In  Nub.  Arist. 
V.  995.  Lucian,  a  very  diligent  reader  of  Aristophanes,  and  who  only  kept  his 
admirable  and  flowing  wit  in  order  by  his  extensive  erudition,  has  left  us  some 
delicate  remarks,  by  which  we  see  that  he  had  as  fine  an  eye  for  works  of 
art,  as  his  mind's  eye  penetrated  into  every  shade  and  minute  separation  of 
manners.  See  among  other  his  treatises,  de  Domo,  de  Imaginibus,  de  Amoribus, 
de  Balneo,  de  Herodoto  vel  Aetione,  etc. 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  81 

lar  cast  soon  flocked  in  abundance  to  Athens,  who  insinuated  in  terms 
much  more  intelligible  and  in  language  much  more  palatable,  the  doc- 
trines which  Protagoras  had  delivered  in  the  abstruse  and  often  obscure 
terms  of  physical  or  metaphysical  science.  Among  a  crowd  of  persons, 
who  now,  under  the  name  of  sophists,  took  the  public  education  of  the 
young  Athenians  into  their  hands,  and  had  more  or  less  a  fatal  influence 
upon  their  intellects  and  manners,  history  has  preserved  the  names  of 
Prodicus  of  Ceos,  Gorgias  of  Leontium,  Hippias  of  Elis,  Euthydemus 
and  Dionysodorus  of  Chios,  Theodorus  of  Byzantium,  Evenus  of  Paros, 
Polus  of  Arigentum,  Calicles,  Thrsymachus,  Tisias,  Licyranion,  etc. ; 
and  before  advefting  to  the  doctrines  which  they  taught,  the  state  of 
Athenian  society  will  be  traced  more  accurately  by  dwelling  a  little 
longer  upon  the  actual  introduction  of  the  sophists  into  it.  The  greater 
part  of  these  men,  as  the  reader  will  see  by  their  names,  were  strangers, 
not  natives  of  Attica  ;  but  their  abilities  in  their  own  country  had  point- 
ed them  out  for  distinction,  and  when  business  was  to  be  transacted 
with  other  states,  and  more  particularly  with  the  imperial  town  of 
Athens,  none  seemed  more  fitted  to  conduct  it  to  the  advantasje  of  their 
mother-country.  Many  of  them  therefore  made  their  first  appearance 
at  Athens  in  the  capacity  of  public  ambassadors;  and  their  manner  of 
conducting  public  business,  their  ostentatious  professions,  the  boasted 
extent  of  their  attainments,  the  charms  of  their  language,  and  even  their 
personal  appearance,  all  tended  to  captivate  in  an  astonishing  manner 
the  minds  of  a  people  naturally  greedy  of  wliat  was  new ;  and  nothing 
could  be  more  calculated  to  fix  it  than  these  men.  They  appeared  in 
sumptuous  robes,  followed  by  a  numerous  escort  of  noble  youths,  who 
accompanied  them  from  town  to  town,  and  who  thus  acquired  by  oral 
communication  that  knowledge  which  books  could  not  supply,  or 
which,  from  the  costliness  of  books,  was  difliciilt  of  attainment : — their 
language  was  rich  and  artificial,  full  of  splendid  antitliescs  and  farsought 
metaphors;  they  were  subtle  in  argument,  and  where  argument  failed 
they  amused  the  imagination  by  the  most  fanciful  tales :  for  the  fancy 
properly  kept  in  play,  these  men  were  masters  enough  of  their  trade  to 
know  that  any  proposition,  however  specious  or  false,  might  safely  be 
dropped  upon  a  soil,  so  well  fitted  by  its  previous  nature  to  multiply 
the  seed  entrusted  to  it.  Their  language  had  also  the  additional  charn» 
of  novelty  to  recommend  it;  for  the  knowledge  of  physics  and  almost 
all  other  science  had  hitherto  been  communicated  in  verse,  and  the  lan- 
guage of  prose,  as  far  as  artificial  beauty  was  concerned,  remained  yet 
to  be  discovered. 

In  terms  thus  persuasive,  and  with  a  confidence  the  most  unlimited 
in  their  powers,  they  professed  themselves  ready  to  answer  every 
question,  leaving  the  choice  of  the  manner  to  the  will  of  the  questionist. 
Considering  nothing  as  too  high  by  its  abstruseness  nor  too  mean  by 
its  lowncss,  they  profctsbcd  lo  have  acijuircd,  and  they  cii!.ragcd  thcni- 


32  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

selves  to  leach,  all  knowledge.  To  make  good  this  boast  of  universal 
talent,  one  of  them  actually  exhibited  himself  at  the  Olympic  games, 
not  merely  with  what  might  be  supposed  the  travelling  stock  of  a  person 
of  his  profession,  a  set  of  epics,  tragedies,  dithyrambics  and  speeches, 
but  with  the  annunciation  that  every  article  about  his  person — his  ring, 
his  seal,  his  bodycoat,  his  perfume-box,  his  upper  and  under  mantle, 
his  girdle,  and  even  his  shoes,  was  the  work  of  his  own  hands.  Their 
boast  of  what  they  could  do  for  their  pupils  was  as  pompous  as  the  ex- 
aggerated declarations  of  their  own  attainments ;  the  first  day  was  to 
make  an  impression ;  in  the  second,  this  progress  was  to  be  still  more 
visible ;  in  the  course  of  a  month  or  two  they  engaged  to  make  them 
everything  that  could  be  wished  :  neither  age  nor  capacity  was  to  be 
any  obstacle,  and  all  tliis  was  to  be  done  without  let  or  hindrance  of 
business  ;  and  business  in  the  happy,  innocent,  polished  and  poetical 
town  of  Athens,  was  proclaimed  to  be,  what  it  is  in  most  other  towns — 
moneygetting.  The  price  of  knowledge  was  indeed  high :  a  single 
lecture,  or  epideixis  as  it  was  called,  sometimes  cost  fifty  drachmae,* 
and  one  of  these  instructors,  from  the  rewards  of  his  professional 
labours,  could  afford  to  place  a  golden  statue  of  himself  in  the  temple 
of  Apollo  at  Delphi.  But  when  a  mania  took  place  in  Athens,  whether 
for  cockfighting  or  speechmaking,  for  quailfeedingf  or  philosophy,  it 
was  no  slight  obstacle  that  could  oppose  it ;  and  Philosophy  had  now 
become  the  fashionable  study.  He  therefore  that  had  money,  bought 
knowledge  :  he  that  had  no  resources  of  his  own,  drew  upon  his  friends ; 
and  he  who  had  neither  resources  nor  friends,  was  told  to  beg,  borrow, 
or  steal,  and  at  any  rate  not  to  be  without  some  of  the  droppings,  at 
least,  of  this  precious  banquet.  Luckily  the  poorest  needed  not  be 
hopeless  ;  for  an  Athenian  was  a  garrulous  animal ;  and  whoever  had 
an  egg  to  lay,  was,  in  general,  only  solicitous  for  a  corner  in  which  he 
might  deposit  it.     The  manly  diversions  of  the  field|  were  accordingly 

*  The  lectures  of  Prodicus  were  given  at  this  sum.  Arist.  Rhet.  lib.  iii. 
c.  14.  p.  2-22.  Protagoras  used  to  pursue  a  more  curious  course  with  his  scho- 
lars. If  the}^  were  unwilling  to  give  the  price  asked,  he  took  them  into  a 
temple,  and  there  sivore  them  as  to  the  price  which  they  thought  his  instructions 
worth. 

j-  Plato  mentions  (de  Legibus,  lib.  vii.)  that  it  was  the  fashion  with  the 
young  Athenians  to  carry  their  quails  out  on  a  regular  airing  every  day  in  their 
hands  or  under  their  arms.  Lucian  says  (de  Gymn.  v.  7.  p.  199.)  that  all  adults 
were  obliged  by  law  to  be  present  at  the  cock  and  quail  fights,  and  not  to  retire 
till  want  of  strength  disabled  the  combatants  from  further  contention. 

ij:  Arist.  in  Equit.  1382.  Hunting  was  less  an  amusement  than  a  branch  of 
education  among  the  Athenians.  Isocrates,  accordingly,  when  stating  the  com- 
pulsory objects  of  pursuit  among  his  young  countrymen  in  the  better  days  of 
the  republic,  classes  together  "  horsemanship,  the  gymnastic  exercises,  hunting 
and  philosophy."  In  Orat.  Areop.  v.  i.  p.  297. 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  33 

left  for  the  Schools — not  to  be  a  philosopher*  was  not  to  be  a  gentle- 
man ;   and  the  arrival  of  a  new  sophist,  who  could  add  to  the  stores 

*  In  Erastis.  In  Theage.  A  brief  analysis  of  the  dialogue  of  Plato,  called 
Protagoras,  will  put  this  in  a  clearer  light  than  any  further  remark  which  can  be 
made,  and  will,  with  the  analysis  of  the  Euthydemus,  before  given,  put  the  reader 
into  possession  of  all  that  is  necessary  on  this  subject.  The  opening  of  the  dia- 
logue describes  Socrates  and  a  friend,  whose  name  does  not  transpire  in  the 
piec&,  as  meeting  together; — accidentally  the  dialogue  gives  us  to  suppose,  and 
most  probably  in  one  of  those  public  places  where,  after  the  midday  siesta,  it  was 
the  fashion  for  the  citizens  of  Athens,  who  did  not  prefer  hunting,  or  the  exercises 
of  the  palaestra,  to  meet  together  for  the  purposes  of  discourse  or  disputation. 
The  unknown  friend,  who  appears  to  have  been  in  the  secret  of  the  great  philo- 
sopher's movements,  begins  a  conversation  by  questioning  him  on  the  subject  of 
Alcibiades  ;  and  the  language  in  which  these  inquiries  are  made,  will  not  alto- 
gether surprise  those  who  remember  the  coarse  term  by  which  Xenophon  cha- 
racterizes the  effect  produced  on  the  ladies  of  Athens,  by  the  extraordinary 
beauty  and  exterior  accomplishments  of  this  dissipated  young  man. — Had  So- 
crates lately  left  this  beautiful  youth ;  and  did  the  uncommon  attentions  which 
his  great  friend  and  preceptor  was  continually  bestowing  upon  him,  meet  yet 
with  any  adequate  return  ? — The  first  question  is  answered  in  the  affirmative; 
the  latter  in  terms  implying  the  highest  satisfaction :  Socrates  had  just  left  his 
favourite  pupil,  and,  what  was  better,  he  had  experienced  from  him  more  une- 
quivocal marks  of  good  atfection,  than  this  untoward  youth  had  ever  before  ma- 
nifested to  him.  The  questionist  is  further  told,  to  his  apparent  surprise  and 
almost  utter  disbelief,  that  the  philosopher  had  actually  been  in  the  young  man's 
company  a  considerable  time  without  perceiving  that  he  was  in  possession  of 
that  pleasure,  which  he  so  greedily  coveted ;  but  all  surprise  ceases,  when  he 
finds  that  it  was  the  superior  attractions  of  the  sophist  Protagoras,  then  newly 
returned  to  Athens,  which  had  caused  this  temporary  alienation  of  mind,  and 
unusual  abstraction  from  the  merits  of  his  young  friend.  Attention  once  excited 
by  the  recent  information,  questions  follow  in  rapid  succession  : — Had  Socrates 
and  Protagoras  met,  and  what  had  been  the  results  of  the  conference  1 — Seats 
were  at  hand — a  lad,  who  occupied  one,  (Plato  never  loses  sight  of  any  little 
particular  which  can  give  effect  to  his  pictures,)  is  presently  dispossessed,  the  two 
friends  are  as  quickly  seated,  and  the  philosopher,  nothing  loath,  commences  his 
narration  as  follows.  (The  reader  will  here  have  a  specimen  of  the  plain,  fami- 
liar, and  almost  homely  manner,  which  in  Plato  frequently  leads  to  the  discussion 
of  questions,  trying  the  utmost  extent  of  the  human  understanding.) 

"  Long  before  daylight,  this  morning,  Hippocrates,  the  son  of  ApoUodorus 
and  the  brother  of  Phason,  beat  violently  at  my  gate  with  his  walkingstick.  As 
soon  as  it  was  opened  to  him,  he  entered  in  violent  haste,  and,  speaking  in  a 
loud  tone  of  voice,  '  Socrates,'  said  he,  '  are  you  asleep  or  awake  ]'  Knowing 
his  voice, '  What,'  said  I,  '  have  we  Hippocrates  here  ?  What  news?' — 'None 
but  good  news.' — '  So  much  the  better;  but  what  is  your  good  news,  or  what 
brings  you  here?' — '  Protagoras,'  says  he,  '  is  arrived,  and  lodges  not  far  from 
our  house.' — '  Tut,' said  I,  '  have  you  just  heard  that?  he  arrived  three  days 
ago.' — 'So  help  me,  Jupiter,  not  till  the  evening,'  said  he:  at  the  same  time 
feeling  about  for  the  bed,  he  seated  himself  at  my  feet,  saying, '  I  assnre  you 
5 


34  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

acquired,  or  recommend  by  any  novelty  of  diction  the  knowledge  al- 
ready existing,  was  considered  as  a  subject  of  national  congratulation. 

he  came  in  the  evening,  and  very  late  too,  on  his  road  from  CEnoe.  I  had  been 
in  pursuit  of  a  runaway  slave ;  a  circumstance  which  1  meant  to  have  imparted 
to  you;  but  something  put  it  out  of  my  head.  On  my  return  home — just  after 
supper,  and  as  we  were  retiring  for  the  night — my  brother  came  to  tell  me,  that 
Protagoras  was  arrived.  My  first  thought  was  to  come  to  you,  and  I  had  actually 
set  about  it;  but  the  advanced  state  of  the  night  made  me  give  up  the  attempt. 
No  sooner,  however,  had  my  toils  been  refreshed,  and  my  sleep  relaxed,  than  I 
rose  up  and  set  out  to  come  here.'  As  I  well  knew  the  young  man's  courage, 
and  yet  saw  an  evident  agitation  about  him,  I  said,  '  And  what  have  you  to  do 
with  all  this  ;  has  Protagoras  done  you  any  injury'?' — 'A  very  serious  one,'  replied 
he  with  a  laugh,  '  for  I  look  upon  him  as  the  only  wise  man  living,  and  he  has  not 
made  me  like  himself.' — '  Nay,'  said  I,  '  with  a  present  of  money  and  a  little  per- 
suasion, he  may  be  prevailed  upon  to  make  you  also  a  wise  man.' — 'Ah!  if  it 
depended  only  upon  that,  I  would  spare  neither  my  own  property  nor  that  of  my 
friends !  and  indeed  the  very  object  of  my  visit  is  to  beg  you  to  speak  on  my  behalf 
to  him :  for  I  am  as  yet  but  young,  and  I  can  neither  boast  of  having  seen  nor 
heard  Protagoras,  being  but  a  mere  boy  when  he  was  here  on  his  former  visit. 
But,  Socrates,  his  praise  is  in  everybody's  mouth,  and  all  the  world  says,  that  in 
wisdom  of  speech  nobody  excels  him.  Why  not  go  then,  and  see  if  we  can  find 
him  at  homel  he  is  entertained,  I  understand,  at  Callias's,  the  son  of  Hipponi- 
cus — pray  let  us  begone.' — '  Stop  a  little,  my  good  friend,'  said  I,  '  the  morning 
is  yet  too  early — let  us  quit  this  room,  and  retire  into  the  hall ;  we  can  walk 
about  there,  and  waste  the  time  till  it  is  light;  it  will  then  be  time  for  us  to  go  : 
Protagoras  is  not  much  in  the  habit  of  going  abroad  and  there  is  no  fear,  there- 
fore, of  not  finding  him  at  home.' — The  philosopher  and  his  young  friend  ac- 
cordingly retire  into  the  hall,  and  Socrates,  never  idle,  begins  to  try  his  com- 
panion's strength,  by  putting  a  few  questions  to  him.  '  If  you  were  going,' 
says  he,  '  to  your  namesake  Hippocrates  the  physician  with  a  fee  in  your  hand, 
and  were  to  put  yourself  under  his  tuition,  and  anybody  should  ask  the  object 
of  your  proceeding?' — The  answer  of  the  young  man  was  ready:  '  everybody 
would  know  that  I  wished  to  become  a  physician.' — '  If  in  like  manner  you 
went  to  Polycleitus  the  Argive,  or  to  Pheidias  the  Athenian  V — '  He  should 
have  an  answer  to  anybody's  question  by  saying  that  he  wished  to  become  a 
sculptor.'  The  question  naturally  followed,  and  what  was  his  object  in  going 
to  Protagoras "? — what  was  Protagoras,  and  what  did  he  profess  to  teach  1  The 
question  leads  to  a  short  inquiry  wliat  a  sophist  is;  and  the  result  is  one  of 
those  coarse,  and  contemptuous  definitions  which  Socrates  delighted  to  fasten 
upon  this  dangerous  body  of  men.  He  compares  the  sophist  to  the  itinerant  and 
stationary  dealers  (sjUTropo/,  uttvnxoi)  whose  wares  were  directed  to  the  support  of 
the  body,  as  those  of  the  former  resembled  eatables  which  were  intended  to 
support  the  soul:  'for  the  soul,'  says  the  philosopher,  'is  fed  by  knowledge, 
and  we  must  take  care  that  the  sophist,  in  pretending  to  administer  food  to  it, 
does  not  practise  upon  us  the  same  deception  as  the  dealers  do ;  for  these  men 
bring  their  eatables  without  any  knowledge  whether  what  they  sell  be  good  or 
bad  for  the  body,  and  praise  at  the  same  time  all  they  bring  indiscriminately ; 
the  purchaser  too  is  as  ignorant  as  the  vender,  unless  he  happen  to  be  a  gym- 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  35 

The  houses  of  the  great  and  the  wealthy  were  immediately  thrown  open 
to  him — the  young  men  crowded  to  hear  and  to  admire — sleep  itself 

nastic  man  or  a  physician.  So,'  continues  the  philosopher,  '  these  men  who 
carry  their  knowledge  about  from  city  to  city,  praise  all  they  sell ;  without 
knowing,  it  is  possible,  whether  what  they  sell  be  good  or  bad  for  the  soul,  and 
the  purchaser  is,  perhaps,  just  as  ignorant,  unless  he  happen  to  be  a  mental 
physician.'  He  concludes,  therefore,  with  a  strong  caution  to  his  young  friend, 
to  beware  lest,  in  purchasing  the  wares  of  Protagoras,  or  any  other  sophist,  he 
should  put  all  that  ought  to  be  dear  to  a  man  to  danger  or  hazard.  '  For,'  adds 
this  real  philosopher,  'there  is  much  greater  danger  in  buying  knowledge  than 
there  is  in  buying  food  :  for  he  who  purchases  eatables  or  drinkables,  can  carry 
them  home  in  another  vessel,  before  he  tastes  of  them  ;  and  having  deposited 
them  there,  he  can  either  examine  them  himself,  or  call  in  the  judgment  of  a 
skilful  friend,  and  thus  learn  what  is  fit  to  be  eaten  or  drunk,  and  when  it  should 
be  eaten  and  to  what  extent.  In  buying  fond,  therefore,  there  is  no  great  danger; 
but  it  is  not  so  with  knowledge  :  that  cannot  be  transferred  to  another  vessel ; 
he  who  buys  it  must  take  it  in  his  soul,  and  having  paid  the  price,  there  it  must 
remain,  for  good  or  for  evil,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  article  bought.' — By 
the  tiine  this  discourse  was  ended,  day  had  broken,  and  the  two  friends  were 
presently  upon  their  journey  to  Callias.  The  reader  is  little  acquainted  with  the 
manners  of  the  times,  if  he  supposes  it  was  a  quiet  one  :  a  knotty  point  is  argued 
during  the  walk,  and  as  the  dispute  is  not  settled  when  they  arrive  at  their 
journey's  end,  they  stand  in  a  forecourt  of  the  house,  to  argue  the  matter  to  an 
end.  Their  loudness  and  vehemence  here  bring  a  little  unpleasantness  upon 
the  two  disputants,  which  is  told  with  the  utmost  good  humour.  Every  man  of 
fashion  in  Athens  (and  Callias  was  a  man  of  high  fashion)  kept  a  eunuch  at  his 
gate,  as  a  Swiss  porter  was  formerly  an  appendage  to  the  hall  of  every  great 
house  in  London.  The  great  resort  of  sophists  to  the  house  of  Callias  made 
this  man's  place  no  sinecure  to  him;  and  judging,  from  the  loud  tones  of  the 
philosopher  and  his  friend,  that  they  must  be  two  of  the  profession  who  worked 
him  so  much  discomfort,  he  meets  their  application  for  admission  with  the 
utmost  rudeness,  throws  the  odious  name  of  sophist  in  their  teeth,  insists  upon 
it  that  his  master  is  not  at  home,  and  fairly  flings  the  door  in  their  faces.  The 
two  friends  make  a  second  application  ;  they  assure  the  angry  porter  that  they 
are  no  sophists,  and  they  announce  that  their  visit  is  to  Protagoras  and  not  to 
Callias.  The  gate  at  this  turns  reluctantly  upon  its  hinges,  and  they  are  admit- 
ted into  the  presence.  The  grouping  of  the  company  is  painted  with  the  hand 
of  a  master.  In  the  prostoa  was  found  Protagoras  walking  about,  and  a  nume- 
rous train  of  scholars  accompanying  his  steps.  On  one  side  of  him  was  Callias 
the  son  of  Hipponicus,  (the  common  entertainer  of  all  sophists,)  his  half-brother 
by  the  mother's  side,  Paralus  the  son  of  Pericles,  and  Charmides  the  son  of 
Glaucon :  on  the  other  side  he  was  supported  by  Xanthippus  the  other  son  of 
Pericles,  by  Philippides  the  son  of  Philomelus,  and  by  Anlimoerus  the  Mendsan, 
of  whom,  as  a  future  sophist,  great  expectations  seem  to  have  been  formed. 
These  were  the  chosen,  the  elect : — behind  followed  a  crowd  of  humble  listeners, 
partly  natives  of  Athens,  and  partly  strangers,  who  had  followed  Protagoras 
from  their  own  native  cities;  led  by  the  charms  of  his  voice,  says  the  satirical 
narrator,  like  the  tribe  on  whom  the  voice  of  Orpheus  worked  a  similar  effect. 


35  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

was  broken  to  attend  his  instructions  ;  and  those  honours,  fetes,  and 
caresses  which  in  the  fashionable  circles  of  London  are  now  lavished 
upon  the  great  leaders  of  our  poetry,  were  in  those  days  reserved  for 
the  successful  promulgators  of  sophistry,  or,  as  it  began  to  be  called, 
philosophy. 

We  have  hitherto  traced  the  course  of  Athenian  education,  and  the 
masters  under  whom  it  was  acquired ;  it  will  now  be  necessary  to  take 
a  rapid  glance  at  the  effect  of  such  a  system  of  education  upon  manners, 
and  then  proceed  to  the  more  serious  part  of  our  subject,  its  influence 
upon  tlie  morals  of  the  times.  A  little  history  (for  the  delightful  works 
of  Herodotus  had  but  just  banished  the  marvellous  prodigies  of  Cadmus 
and  Eugaeon,  and  the  prosing  narratives  of  Hecataeus  and  Hellanicus ;) 
a  little  geometry  (for  the  Delphic  oracle  had  not  even  yet  promulgated 
the  problem,  whose  solution  was  to  carry  geometrical  science  a  step 
farther  than  the  measure  of  surfaces;)  a  little  astronomy  (for  the  Meto- 
nic  discoveries,  respectable  as  they  were,  are  to  the  Principia  and  the 
mecanique  Celeste  as  a  rushlight  to  the  full  blaze  of  the  meridian  sun:) 
— these,  with  whatever  mass  of  poetry  and  music  was  laid  as  the  sub- 
strata, were  the  utmost  limits  to  which  Athenian  education  could  possi- 
bly reach  ;  and  it  is  presumed  that  any  young  person  in  the  higher  order 
of  society  among  ourselves,  who  should  be  thrown  upon  the  stream  of 
life  with  no  more  ballast  than  this,  would  not  have  himself  only  to 
blame,  if  he  suflfered  shipwreck  on  the  voyage ;  and  the  more  discern- 

The  order  observed  by  these  docile  pupils  more  particularly  pleased  the  observ- 
ing philosopher.  '  They  took  the  utmost  care,'  says  he,  '  never  to  be  in  the 
way  of  Protagoras,  as  he  advanced  ;  but  when  he  and  his  more  select  friends 
turned,  the  retainers  with  the  utmost  propriety  divided  here  and  there,  going 
about  in  a  circle,  and  ordering  matters  so  as  to  be  always  in  the  rear  of  their 
great  teacher  and  model.'  In  an  opposite  prostoa  was  discerned  Hippias  of 
Elis,  seated  on  a  throne,  and  a  choice  troop  surrounding  him  on  benches,  who 
put  questions  to  him  in  physics,  and  the  higher  branches  of  astronomy  ; — '  and 
he,  sitting  on  a  throne,  resolved  and  explained  to  them  all  their  doubts.' — The 
'  divine'  Prodieus  is  described  as  stowed  into  a  sort  of  pantry,  (the  number  of 
guests  having  left  no  other  apartment  unoccupied,)  and  he  appears  to  have  been 
a  less  early  riser  than  the  other  sophists,  for  he  is  represented  as  still  tenant  of 
his  bed,  and  covered  up  in  a  very  comfortable  assortment  of  coverlets  and  blan- 
kets. Like  a  French  lady,  however,  his  bed  is  no  obstacle  to  his  receiving 
visiters,  and  he  too  has  his  circle.  Among  the  numerous  body  of  scholars  around 
him,  are  particularized  Pausanias  and  his  friend  the  beautiful  Agathon,  the  two 
Adimanti,  one  the  son  of  Cepis,  the  other  the  son  of  Leucolophides,  and  a  few 
others.  What  the  subject  of  conversation  was  in  this  quarter,  Socrates  could 
not  learn  ;  for  the  voice  of  Prodieus  was  thick  and  indistinct,  and  thus  baffled 
the  intense  curiosity  of  his  would  be  auditor.  Soon  after  this,  Alcibiades  and 
Critias  enter :  Socrates  explains  the  object  of  his  visit,  and  the  business  of  the 
day  begins. — As  the  object  in  this  note  has  been  merely  to  explain  the  manners 
of  the  times,  we  may  here  take  leave  of  this  very  amusing  dialogue. 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  37 

ing  spirits  of  antiquity  thought  precisely  of  the  attainments  of  their 
countrymen  as  we  do.  It  is  impossible  to  read  the  works  of  Plato  and 
Aristophanes,  the  two  great  painters  of  the  higher  and  lower  classes  of 
society  in  Athens,  without  being  struck  with  the  incessant  pains  they 
take,  to  root  out  of  the  minds  of  tlieir  fellow-citizens  the  false  notions 
of  superior  wisdom,  which,  upon  the  strength  of  these  small  acquire- 
ments, and  the  superficial  lessons  of  the  sophists,  were  growing  up 
among  them.  The  serious  powers  of  the  former*  and  the  unsparing 
ridicule  of  the  latter  are  exerted  on  all  occasions,  and  with  the  happiest 
success,  to  prove,  that  with  all  the  pretensions  of  their  countrymen, 
their  knowledge  consisted  in  mere  appearance  and  not  in  reality ;  that 
they  were  lovers  of  the  knowledge  which  lay  merely  in  opinion 
{((iixcSo^u,)  not  lovers  of  the  wisdom,  which  lay  in  the  real  science  (?«xc«rc?o/. ) 
To  separate  and  define  with  the  utmost  precision  these  distinct  species 
of  knowledge,  the  most  gigantic  powers  are  displayed  by  Plato :  it  was 
with  this  view,  no  doubt,  that  he  framed  his  theoryf  of  the  two  worlds, 
the  one  visible,  the  other  ideal ;  the  latter  containing  immutable  essences 
and  real  beings,  the  former  containing  only  objects  drawn  from  the 
great  archelypes|  in  the  ideal  world,  and  which,  being  subject  to  gene- 
ration and  corruption,  to  increase  and  diminution,  are  unfit  to  be  called 
beings.  For  the  same  purpose,  he  drew  out  his  four  species  and  degrees 
of  knowledge — intelligence,  or  the  knowledge  of  pure  essences  (vo«<r/f;) 
the  knowledge  where  the  reasoning  powers  and  imagery  act  conjointly, 
as  in  estimating  the  ideal  of  geometrical  figures  (^woiu;)  the  knowledge 
into  which  belief  entered,  and  by  which  bodies  and  their  properties 
were  to  be  estimated  ('^'w ;)  and  that  more  common  knowledge  which 
lay  only  in  conjecture,  and  whose  food  was,  in  Plato's  contemptuous 
classification,  the  knowledge  of  the  images  or  shadows  of  bodies.  Igno- 
rance he  divides  with  equal  precision  into  two  kinds  :  simple  ignorance 
(^nyvoiA ;)  and  the  ignorance  Avhich,  mistaking  itself  for  knowledge  (a^a9-/a,) 
is  without  hope  of  remedy,  as  long  as  this  opinion  attends  it :  and  it  is 

*  See  among  other  of  his  dialogues  that  singular  one  called  the  Sophist.  It 
may  safely  be  said,  that  the  person  who  has  not  read  this  dialogue  (utterly  un- 
susceptible of  translation)  and  the  Connedies  of  Aristophanes,  can  have  no  idea 
of  the  powers  of  the  Greek  language. 

f  See  the  close  of  the  Sixth  Book  of  Plato's  Republic ;  a  book,  as  Gray  re- 
marks, which  can  never  be  read  too  often. 

:|:  That  things,  both  corruptible  and  incorruptible,  are  only  emanations  from 
the  archetypal  idea  residing  in  the  Divine  Mind,  is  an  opinion  also  of  Dante, 
who,  through  the  medium  of  Latin  translations,  seems  to  have  been  a  great 
reader  of  the  Greek  philosophers. 

Cio  cbe  non  muore,  e  cio  che  puo  muorire, 
Non  e  se  non  splendor  di  quella  idea, 
Che  partorisce,  amando,  il  nostro  Sire. — Faradiso,  Cant.  XIII. 


38  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

certainly  a  strong  incentive  to  the  desire  of  attaining  true  knowledge 
ourselves,  and  of  being  cautious  what  opinions  we  promulgate  to  others, 
to  find  such  a  man  as  Plato,  laying  it  down  as  a  fundamental  principle, 
that  the  wicked  man  sins  only  through  ignorance,  and  that  the  end  of 
his  actions,  like  that  of  all  other  men,  is  good,  but  that  he  mistakes  the 
nature  of  it,  and  uses  wrong  means  to  attain  it.  The  poet,  with  a 
different,  but  no  less  powerful  weapon,  attacks  his  countrymen  upon 
the  same  score.  Under  cover  of  a  few  compliments,  without  which 
the  sovereign  people  of  Athens  were  not  very  safely  approached,  he 
tells  them  to  their  faces  that  they  were  a  set  of  shallow,  self-conceited, 
assuming  coxcombs ;  that  their  distinguishing  feature  was  ignorance, 
and  their  pretended  wisdom  only  the  worst  part  of  ignorance,  excessive 
cunning :  he  assures  them  that  they  are  the  dupes  of  every  person, 
native  or  stranger,  who  had  only  the  talent  to  discover  that  their  feelings 
centred  in  their  ears :  he  gives  them  to  understand,  that  the  great  intel- 
lects, which  had  sprung  up  suddenly  among  them,  and  among  whom 
he  might  have  placed  himself  as  not  the  least  extraordinary,  had  only 
made  them  a  sort  of  parvenus  in  knowledge,  as  the  miraculous  and 
almost  incredible  events  of  the  Persian  war  had  made  them  parvenus 
in  the  history  of  nations  :  and,  drawing  an  image  from  those  foolish 
birds  whose  mouths  are  always  open,  he  tells  them  by  a  bold  pun,  the 
deep  sense  of  which  excuses  the  conceit,  that  they  were  Cechenians, 
and  not  Athenians.  Such  were  the  opinions  of  Plato  and  Aristophanes 
respecting  the  state  of  knowledge  in  their  own  country. 

That  morality  should  have  improved  under  such  a  system  of  educa- 
tion as  this,  was  not  much  to  be  expected;  and,  in  fact,  as  intellect 
advanced,  if  such  a  word  is  to  be  prostituted  by  application  to  such  a 
species  of  knowledge,  the  public  morals  became  deteriorated  with  a 
most  alarming  rapidity:  how,  indeed,  could  it  be  otherwise,  under 
preceptors,  such  as  were  allowed  to  direct  the  minds  of  the  wealthy, 
the  young  and  the  unsuspecting !  Like  their  great  predecessor,  Prota- 
goras, they  taught  that  the  first  and  most  important  of  all  acquisitions 
was  eloquence  ;  not  that  simple  and  sublime  eloquence  which  advocates 
the  cause  of  innocence  and  truth,  but  that  specious  eloquence  which,  in 
the  senate,  the  ecclesia,  the  courts  of  law,  and  the  common  intercourse 
of  society  could  steal,  like  the  songs  by  which  serpents  were  charmed, 
upon  the  ears  of  their  auditors,  and  sway  their  minds  at  the  will  of  the 
speaker.  As  the  first  step  towards  this  important  acquisition,  the  pupil 
was  carefully  initiated  in  all  the  niceties  of  that  language,  whose  mazes 
and  subtleties  sometimes  led  from  premises  apparently  simple,  to  con- 
clusions which  seemed  more  like  legerdemain  than  the  effects  of  sober 
reasoning.  He  was  then  told  that  there  were  two  sorts  of  persuasion  ; 
that  by  one  an  auditor's  mind  was  imbued  with  actual  knowledge; 
by  the  other  with  a  knowledge  consisting  only  in  belief  and  opinion : 
and  when  he  asked,  which  of  these  two  persuasions  rhetoric  was  meant 


PRELIMINARY   DISCOURSE.  39 

to  create  in  the  courts  of  law,  and  the  public  assemblies,  on  the  subject 
of  justice  and  injustice,  he  was  answered,  belief  of  knowledge  without 
actuality ;  for  rhetoric  was  defined  to  be  the  art  of  enabling  an  ignorant 
man  to  speak  among  the  ignorant,  with  more  appearance  of  knowledge, 
than  the  man  who  was  actually  master  of  the  subject  under  discussion. 
By  this  art  the  pupil  was  further  instructed,  that  it  was  in  his  power  and 
his  duty,  to  make  the  same  thing  appear  to  the  same  person  at  one  time 
just,  at  another  unjust :  that  he  could,  by  this  means,  in  a  speech  to  the 
people,  make  the  same  things  appear,  at  this  time  good,  at  that  time 
the  reverse ;  nay,  that  if  as  clever  as  the  Eleatic*  Palamedes,  he  might 
make  the  same  things  appear  like  and  unlike,  one  and  many,  in  a  state 
of  quietude  and  in  a  state  of  motion.  These  lessons  admirably  prepared 
the  pupil  for  his  next  degree:  viz.  initiation  into  the  mysteries  of  the 
Great  Beast,  the  Me>4  e^ifxfxn,  as  that  populace  was  significantly  and 
contemptuously  termed  in  private  by  those  who  did  not  scruple  to  pan- 
der to  its  basest  feelings  in  public.  He  was  told,  that  this  animal — 
great  and  strong — had  certain  irascible  and  concupiscent  passions,  of 
which  it  was  necessary  to  make  himself  the  master.  He  was  accord- 
ingly taught  to  know  in  what  way  it  was  most  expedient  to  approach 
this  animal,  and  how  to  touch  him — what  made  him  difficult  and  what 
easy  of  access — how  to  discriminate  between  the  tones  which  the 
Great  Beast  himself  uttered,  and  the  tones  which,  in  others,  either 
soothed  or  provoked  him.  All  this,  the  neophyte  was  told,  had, 
during  a  course  of  time,  been  collected  into  an  art;  in  this  art,  he  was 
'  assured,  lay  true  wisdom,  and  this  wisdom  was  what  they  (the  sophists) 
undertook  to  teach.  As  to  any  discrimination  of  the  passions  of  this 
animal,  or  any  separation  of  the  honourable,  the  good  and  the  just,  from 
the  base,  the  bad  and  the  unjust;  it  was  what,  they  declared,  they 
neither  laid  claim  to  themselves,  nor  expected  from  others  ;  it  was  their 
business  to  shape  their  judgments  by  the  instincts  of  the  animal ;  calling 
that  good,  in  which  he  delighted  ;  that  evil,  with  which  he  was  dis- 
pleased, and  considering  all  as  just  and  honourable  which  satisfied  the 
necessities  of  nature :  and  what  essential  difference  there  was  between 
that  which  is  good  in  itself  and  good  according  to  nature,  they  confessed 
they  did  not  know  themselves,  and  consequently  could  not  communicate 
to  others. 

The  higher  pandects  of  the  school  were  now  laid  open  to  him ,  and 
it  is  at  once  curious  and  painful  to  see  how  early  these  sophists  had 
discovered  all  those  dangerous  doctrines,  which,  at  subsequent  periods, 
have  been  made  use  of  by  bad  and  designing  men  for  the  subversion  of 
society.    They  asserted,  on  all  occasions,  that  might  makes  right;  that 

*  By  the  Eleatic  Palamedes  was  meant  Alcidamas,  a  pupil  of  Gorglas,  not 
Zenon,  as  Diogenes  Laertius,  quoting  from  Plato  with  his  too  common  inaccu- 
racy, supposes. 


40  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

the  property  of  the  weak  belongs  to  the  strong,  and  that,  whatever  the 
law  might  say  to  the  contrary,  the  voice  of  nature  taught  and  justified 
the  doctrine.  They  proclaimed  that  the  only  wise  persons  were  those 
who  aspired  to  the  direction  of  public  affairs,  and  who  were  slopped  in 
this  attempt  by  no  other  consideration  than  the  measure  of  their  capa- 
city; and  they  added,  that  those  who,  without  any  command  over  them- 
selves, could  acquire  a  command  over  others,  had  a  right  to  have  their 
superiour  talent  rewarded  by  possessing  more  than  otliers ;  for  tempe- 
rance, self-restraint,  and  a  dominion  over  the  passions  and  desires,  were 
set  down  by  them  as  marks  of  dulness  and  stupidity,  only  calculated 
to  excite  mirth  and  derision.  They  asserted  with  confidence,  that  na- 
ture itself  made  it  both  just  and  honourable,  that  he  who  wished  to  live 
happil)',  ought  to  permit  his  desires  as  large  a  sway  as  possible,  and  in 
no  way  to  restrain  them  :  they  bargained  indeed  for  the  possession  of 
courage  and  political  wisdom  in  their  scholars ;  but  once  in  possession 
of  these,  a  man,  in  their  opinion,  was  at  liberty  to  administer  to  his 
passions  in  all  other  respects,  and  to  leave  nothing  unindulged,  which 
could  contribute  to  their  gratification.  They  declared,  that  those  who 
attached  disgrace  to  this  doctrine,  did  it  only  from  a  sense  of  shame  at 
wanting  the  means  to  gratify  their  own  passions :  and  their  praises  of 
moderation  they  asserted  to  be  mere  hypocrisy;  and  to  proceed  solely 
from  the  wish  of  enslaving  better  men  than  themselves.  With  the  same 
power  of  self-indulgence,  said  these  flagitious  liars,  these  assertors  of 
moderation  would  pursue  the  same  path  as  those  who  were  now  the 
objects  of  their  animadversions  : — they  concluded,  therefore,  that  it  was 
ridiculous  in  those  who  were  above  restraint,  to  lay  a  restraint  upon 
themselves,  and  they  proclaimed  in  the  most  unqualified  terms,  that 
luxury,  intemperance  and  licentiousness,  were  alone  virtue  and  happi- 
ness, and  that  all  other  declarations  were  mere  specious  pretences — 
compacts  contrary  to  nature — the  triflings  of  men,  who  deserved  no 
manner  of  consideration ! 

The  sacred  principles  of  justice  were  treated  with  a  contempt  equally 
daring.  They  often  began  with  the  bold  definition  that  justice  itself 
was  nothing  but  the  interest  of  the  strongest ;  that  the  masterpiece  of 
injustice  was  to  appear  a  man  of  virtue  without  being  really  one  :  and 
they  proceeded  to  prove  (and  in  a  town  like  Athens,  the  demonstration 
perhaps  was  not  difficult)  that  on  all  occasions  the  just  man  came  off 
worse  than  the  unjust.  In  the  mutual  compacts  of  private  life,  said 
they,  the  just  man  is  always  a  loser,  and  the  unjust  a  gainer.  In  public 
affairs,  when  a  contribution  is  to  be  made,  the  one  with  equal  property 
always  contributes  less  than  the  other;  whereas,  when  a  disbursement 
is  to  be  made,  the  former  receives  nothing,  and  the  latter  is  a  conside- 
rable gainer.  If  both  are  in  office,  one  mischief  at  least  happens  to  the 
just  man;  his  private  affairs  go  to  ruin  from  being  neglected,  and  the 
public  give  him  no  redress,  merely  because  he  is  a  just  man ;  he  becomes 


PRELIMINARY   DISCOURSE.  41 

odious  besides  to  his  relations  and  his  friends,  because  he  will  not,  for 
their  service,  overstep  the  bounds  of  right;  whereas,  to  the  unjust  man, 
the  very  reverse,  said  they,  is  the  case.  To  paint  this  more  forcibly, 
they  drew  the  picture  of  a  tyranny,  where  the  unjust  man  was  in  the 
highest  state  of  felicity,  the  voluntarily  just  in  the  greatest  state  of  de- 
pression ;  and  they  proved  that  the  former,  though  outraging  every  rule 
of  humanity,  was  loaded  with  praises,  not  only  those  who  were  con- 
scious of  his  crimes,  but  even  those  who  had  suffered  by  them,  consi- 
dering him  a  happy  man :  for  if  injustice,  added  they,  is  ever  blamed, 
the  blame  proceeds,  not  from  the  fear  of  committing  it,  but  from  the  fear 
of  suffering  by  it.  Improving  upon  these  notions,  they  declared,  that  to 
be  able  to  commit  an  injury,  was  in  itself  a  blessing,  receive  an  injury 
was  in  itself  an  evil ;  but  that  there  was  more  of  ill  in  receiving,  than 
there  was  of  good  in  committing,  and  that  to  set  this  right,  was  the 
origin  and  object  of  legislation.  Justice,  therefore,  they  considered  as 
the  medium  between  the  greatest  of  blessings,  that  of  committing  wrong 
with  impunity,  and  the  greatest  evil,  which  consists  in  not  being  able  to 
revenge  an  injury  received;  and  hence,  according  to  them,  was  derived 
the  common  attachment  to  justice,  not  as  being  a  blessing  in  itself,  but 
because  persons  in  a  capacity  to  hurt  others,  oblige  them  to  consider  it  as 
such  :  for  he,  they  continued,  who  has  power  in  his  hands,  and  is  really 
a  man,  would  never  submit  to  sucli  a  convention: — it  would,  indeed,  be 
complete  folly  to  do  it.  Give  the  good  man  and  the  bad  man,  they  trium- 
phantly concluded,  power  to  act  as  they  please  ;  present  them  with  rings 
like  that  of  Gyges,  which  should  make  them  invisible,  and  what  will 
be  the  consequence  ?  The  virtuous  man  would  soon  be  found  treading 
the  very  same  path  as  the  villain,  and  if  he  should  be  so  "  adamantine" 
as  to  act  otherwise,  he  would  be  considered  as  the  most  pitiful  and 
stupid  of  his  species :  in  public,  indeed,  every  one  would  eulogize  his 
virtues ;  but  this  would  be  done  with  a  design  of  deceiving  others,  and 
in  the  fear  of  risking  fortune,  if  a  contrary  course  were  pursued. 

Such  were  some  of  the  doctrines  which,  advanced  with  all  the  powers 
of  dialectic  skill,  and  dropping  upon  a  soil  too  well  fitted  by  an  imper- 
fect education  for  their  reception,  confused  the  intellects  and  perverted 
the  notions  of  the  young  Athenians.  But  the  poisonous  chalice  was  not 
yet  full. — As  some  compunctious  visiting  of  nature  might  interfere,  and 
the  dread  of  present  or  future  retribution  (that  witness  of  himself,  which 
the  Deity  has  left  in  all  ages,)  might  hinder  the  pupil  from  giving  due 
effect  to  these  pernicious  precepts,  the  high  doctors  of  this  infernal 
school  now  took  him  in  hand  ;  and  in  this  moment  of  wavering  and 
irresolution,  they,  with  a  hot  iron,  for  ever  seared  the  conscience,  which 
still  retained  some  faint  marks  of  tenderness  and  sensibility.  The  opi- 
nions, which  he  had  sucked  in  with  his  nurse's  and  his  mother's  milk, 
the  opinions  which  from  the  mouths  of  the  same  persons  he  had  heard 
conveyed  in  the  shape  of  serious  arguments,  or  amusing  fables,  the 

6 


42  PRELIMINARY   DISCOURSE. 

opinions,  which  he  saw  evinced  in  the  numerous  and  imposing  sacrificial 
rites  of  his  country,  all  these  opinions  he  was  told  were  false  ;  and  he 
was  required  to  abjure  them ;  he,  who  had  been  witness  to  the  victims 
offered  to  the  gods  by  his  parents,  and  to  the  prayers  and  supplications 
made  to  the  same  gods  in  behalf  of  themselves  and  their  children,  with 
an  earnestness  and  a  warmth  which  showed  the  conviction  of  their  own 
minds  that  there  was  some  superintending  Power ;  he,  who  in  the  pros- 
trations and  adorations  of  Greeks  and  barbarians,  at  the  rising  and  set- 
ting of  the  two  great  luminaries,  had  either  seen  or  heard  that  this  per- 
suasion was  common  to  all  people — he  was  now  told  to  give  up  all 
these  notions,  fitted  only  for  the  capacities  of  dreaming  ignorance  and 
anile  superstition.  He  was  assured,  in  broad  open  day,  in  the  sight  of 
that  sun  which  he  saw  rising  every  day  to  run  his  glorious  course,  and 
in  the  face  of  that  earth  which  he  beheld  covered  with  flowers  as  well 
as  fruit,  that  of  three  things  he  might  console  himself  with  one ;  that 
there  were  no  gods,  or  that  if  there  were,  they  took  no  cognizance 
of  human  affairs,  or  that  if  they  did,  their  connivance  could  be  gained, 
and  their  vengeance  appeased,  by  returning  to  them  some  of  the  lowest 
of  their  own  gifts ; — a  bull,  an  ox,  a  sheep,  a  little  incense,  or  a  few 
grains  of  salt.  By  what  arguments  these  doctrines  were  supported  we 
have  neither  time  nor  patience  to  mention  ;  and  the  arguments  by  which 
they  were  refuted,  it  is  not  surely  necessary,  at  this  time  of  day,  to 
repeat ;  but  one  argument,  however  uselessly  it  was  urged,  is  too  ho- 
nourable to  human  nature  to  be  altogether  omitted ;  and  some  among 
ourselves,  may,  perhaps,  mutatis  mutandis,  receive  benefit  from  the 
ideas  of  an  unassisted  and  uninspired  heathen.  "  My  son,"  (this  better 
voice  whispered  to  the  unfortunate  victim  of  superficial  education  and 
devilish  sophistry,)  "  you  are  yet  young :  time  will  make  an  alteration 
in  your  opinions  ;  and  of  many,  which  you  now  strongly  maintain,  you 
will  hereafter  advocate  the  very  reverse :  wait,  therefore,  till  time  has 
made  you  a  judge  of  matters,  so  deep  and  so  important  in  their  nature. 
For  that  which  you  now  think  of  no  consequence,  is,  in  fact,  the  con- 
cern of  the  very  highest  importance ;  viz.  the  direction  of  life  to  good 
or  bad  purposes,  by  corresponding  investigations  into  the  nature  of  the 
heavenly  powers.  One  thing,  and  that  not  trivial,  I  can  at  least  venture, 
in  all  the  confidence  of  truth,  to  assure  you  respecting  them  ;  the  opinions 
which  you  now  entertain  are  not  solitary  opinions,  first  originaed  by 
you  or  your  friends  ;  they  are  opinions  which,  at  all  times,  have  found 
advocates,  more  or  less  in  number ;  but  I  speak  the  language  of  experi- 
ence when  I  say  that  not  one  of  those  who  in  their  youth  had  been  led 
to  think  that  there  were  no  gods,  has  found  his  old  age  consistent  in 
opinion  with  that  of  his  more  juvenile  years."  Alas  !  to  many  of  these 
persons  such  an  old  age  never  came :  and  if  the  natural  consequences 
of  these  damnable  lessons  sometimes  brought  moments  of  anguish  and 
remorse,  the  effect  of  such  feelings,  when  the  great  doctrine  of  Repent- 


PRELIMINARY   DISCOURSE.  43 

ance  had  not  yet  been  promulgated,  was  only  to  plunge  the  pupil  into 
deeper  sins,  that  he  might  get  rid  of  the  terrors  of  an  upbraiding  con- 
science ! 

In  laying  open,  at  such  length,  the  manners  and  the  doctrines  of  the 
sophists,  the  reader  may  seem  to  have  been  drawn  from  the  purpose 
for  which  these  remarks  were  designed  :  but  humour  depends  for  its 
relish  very  frequently  upon  knowledge — knowledge  not  acquired  at  the 
moment,  but  knowledge  fixed  in  the  mind,  and  requiring  little  expla- 
nation ;  for  nobody,  says  a  French  critic,  laughs,  when  there  is  need  of 
an  explanation  to  tell  him  why  he  ought  to  laugh.     It  is  only  an  inti- 
mate acquaintance  with  the  state  of  manners,  and  the  habits  of  society 
in  the  upper  classes  of  society  in  Athens,  which  can  give  the  reader  a 
full  idea  of  the  Clouds  of  Aristophanes.     It  is  then  only  that  the  full 
force  of  many  of  his  single  happy  words  can  be  understood,  or  tliose 
images  raised  in  the  mind  which  mere  words  are  sometimes  calculated 
to  light  up.     But  this  purpose  must  still  lie  by  a  little  longer.     Some 
doubt  has  been  thrown  on  tlie  veracity  of  the  author,  from  whose  wri- 
tings these  remarks  have  chiefly  been  suggested  or  collected  ;  and  an 
agreeable*  compiler,  well  known  to  scholars,  would  wish  us  to  believe, 
that  the  master  of  the  Academy  acted  the  same  part  by  the  sophists  of 
his  day,  as  Aristophanes  did  by  the  great  originator  of  the  Grecian  moral 
philosophy.     The  Dialogues  of  Plato  do,  certainly,  by  the  introduction 
of  living  characters,  speaking  freely  and  unreservedly  their  most  inti- 
mate thoughts,  approach  nearest  of  anything  which  antiquity  has  left 
us  to  the  modern  novel,  that  dangerous  species  of  literature,  which  has 
torn  open  all  the  recesses  of  the  heart,  and  left  none  of  those  sanctuaries 
unopened  into  which  a  person's  own  thoughts  should  fear  to  penetrate. 
But  the  romance-novel,  that  elliptic  figure,  within  whose  circumference 
any  man's  character  may  be  drawn  for  the  purposes  of  utter  distortion, 
because  reality  and  fiction  being  its  admitted  generating  axes,  one  line 
must  be  made  to  augment,  precisely  as  the  other  decreases,  this  was  a 
species  of  literary  guilt,  left  for  the  invention  of  our  own  days;  and  it 
is  to  be  wished  that  it  had  begun  with  a  sex,  on  whom  it  would  have 
been  less  ungracious  to  bestow  the  reprobation,  which  such  an  inroad 
upon  the  peace  and  security  of  society  deserves.     Without  adverting, 
then,  to  the  difference  of  manners  between  the  Greeks  and  ourselves, 
without  showing  that  Athenaius,  in  attacking  the  character  of  Plato  for 
veracity,  has  left  his  own  reputation  for  truth  in  a  most  awkward  pre- 
dicament;  after  admitting,  in  its  fullest  extent,  the  literary  jealousy  of 
Plato,  which  could  bear  no  rival  near  his  throne,  it  will  be  sufficient  to 
say  that  we  possess  other  means  of  establishing  the  truth  of  his  obser- 
vations.    If  such  dark  and   malignant  spirits,  as  Plato  describes,  had 
been  at  work  with  such  doctrines  as  he  details,  their  effects  would  be 

*  Athenaeus,  lib.  xi. 


44  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

pretty  visible  in  the  annals  of  the  times  ;  for  what  is  history  but  opinion 
converted  into  fact  ?  and  how  read  we  ?  what  says  the  great,  the  match- 
less contemporary  chronicler  ?  "About  this  time,"  says  Thucydides, 
(and  he  is  speaking  of  the  period  which  immediately  preceded  the  re- 
presentation of  the  Clouds,)  "  about  this  time,"  says  Thucydides,  (and 
his  declarations  may  be  given  nearly  in  the  words  of  a  translator,  to 
whom  something  might  be  added  on  the  side  of  elegance,  but  whose 
closeness  and  fidelity  few  can  hope  to  surpass)  "  the  received  value  of 
names  imposed  for  signification  of  things,  began  to  be  changed  into 
arbitrary:  for  inconsiderate  boldness  was  counted  truehearted  manliness ; 
prudent  deliberation,  a  handsome  fear ;  modesty,  the  cloak  of  cowardice ; 
to  be  wise  in  everything,  to  be  lazy  in  everything.  A  furious  sudden- 
ness was  reputed  a  point  of  valour.  To  readvise  for  the  better  security, 
was  held  for  a  fair  pretext  of  tergiversation.  He  that  was  fierce,  was 
always  trusty ;  and  he  that  contraried  such  a  one,  was  suspected.  He 
that  laid  a  snare,  if  it  took,  was  a  wise  man ;  but  he  whose  forecast 
discovered  a  snare  laid,  a  more  dangerous  man  than  he :  he  that  had 
been  so  prudent,  as  not  to  need  to  do  the  one  or  the  other,  was  said  to 
be  a  dissolver  of  society,  and  one  that  stood  in  fear  of  his  adversary. 
In  brief,  he  that  could  outstrip  another  in  the  doing  of  an  ill  act,  or  that 
could  persuade  another  thereto,  that  never  meant  it,  was  commended. 
To  be  kin  to  another,  was  less  binding  than  to  be  of  his  Society  or 
Company;  because  these  were  ready  to  undertake  the  most  hazardous 
enterprizes,  and  that  without  any  pretext.  For  Societies*  were  not 
made  upon  prescribed  laws  of  profit,  but  for  rapine,  contrary  to  the  laws 
established.  And  as  for  mutual  trust  amongst  them,  it  was  confirmed 
not  so  much  by  oaths  or  divine  law,  as  by  the  communication  of  guilt. 
And  what  was  well  advised  of  their  adversaries,  they  received  with  an 
eye  to  their  actions,  to  see  whether  they  were  too  strong  for  them,  or 
not,  and  not  ingenuously.  To  be  revenged  was  in  more  request,  than 
never  to  have  received  injury.  And  for  oaths  (when  any  were)  of  re- 
concilement, being  administered  in  the  present  necessity,  they  were  of 
force  to  such  as  had  otherwise  no  power :  but  upon  opportunity,  he 
that  first  durst,  thought  his  revenge  sweeter  by  the  trust,  than  if  he  had 
taken  the  open  way.  For  they  did  not  only  put  to  account  the  safeness 
of  that  course,  but  having  circumvented  their  adversary  by  fraud,  they 
assumed  to  themselves  withal,  a  mastery  in  point  of  wit.  And  dishonest 
men  for  the  most  part  are  sooner  called  able,  than  simple  men  honest. 
And  men  are  ashamed  of  this  title,  but  take  a  pride  in  the  other.  The 
cause  of  all  this  is  desire  to  rule,  out  of  avarice  and  ambition,  and  the 
zeal  of  contention  from  those  two  proceeding.     Thus  was  wickedness 

*  By  societies  are  here  meant  companies  united  under  certain  laws  for  the 
more  profitable  management  of  their  trades  or  arts. 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  45 

on  foot  in  every  kind,  throughout  all  Greece,  and  sincerity  (whereof 
there  is  much  in  a  generous  nature)  was  laughed  down."* 

A  Tragedy  of  manners,  thus  fearful,  wanted  a  Gracioso  to  relieve 
some  of  its  more  sombre  scenes,  and  the  character  was  supplied  in 
Aristophanes. 

To  dispel  by  the  powerful  weapon  of  ridicule  these  mists  of  errour — 
to  give  a  finished  picture  of  a  plain  unlettered  man  as  he  was  likely  to 
come  from  the  handsf  of  the  sophists — to  rescue  the  young  men  of 
family  from  the  hands  of  such  flagitious  preceptors,  and  restore  them  to 
that  noble  simplicity  of  manners,  which  had  prevailed  in  Greece  in  the 
time  of  Homer,  and  which  had  not  entirely  disappeared  even  in  the  days 
of  Herodotus,  was  unquestionably  the  object  of  the  Clouds  ; — it  was  a 
task  of  no  ordinary  kind,  but  the  author  has  accomplished  his  purpose 
in  one  of  those  immortal  dialogues,  which,  wrapped  up  in  his  own  rich, 
mellifluous  and  inimitable  versification,  remains,  to  the  moderns,  like 
so  many  of  the  other  great  works  of  antiquity,  at  once  an  object  of  ad- 
miration|  and  despair.  If  the  mode§  in  which  this  admirable  dialogue 
was  conveyed,  be  such  as  to  detract  in  our  eyes,  at  least  in  some  degree, 
from  its  merits,  it  must  be  remembered,  that  the  persons  for  whose 
service  it  was  intended,  were  not  likely  to  be  present  at  the  recital  of 
it,  and  that  the  reproof  could  only  be  dealt  at  second  hand  through  the 
medium  of  a  clever,  but  noisy,  conceited,  and  riotous  mob,  who  required 
some  compensation  for  having  the  merriment  of  their  bacchanalian  anni- 
versary disturbed  by  satires  upon  the  system  of  public  education. — It 
now  remained  for  the  author  to  give  a  central  figure  to  his  piece  ;  and 
the  same  regard  to  the  quality  of  his  audience  seems  to  have  guided 
him  also  in  this  stage  of  his  progress. 

*  Hobbes's  Trans,  of  Thucydides,  lib.  iii.  188. 

I  A  picture  of  this  kind  is  admirably  furnished  in  the  Clouds,  commencino-  in 
the  original,  at  v.  438. 

\.  Wieland  enthusiastically  observes  (and  the  author  of  Oberon  has  a  right  to 
be  heard  on  a  matter  of  taste,  notwithstanding  his  mad  inconsistencies  on  matters 
of  opinion)  that  the  imaginations  of  Lucian,  Rabelais,  Cervantes,  Lopez  de 
Vega,  Sterne  and  Swift  united,  could  not  have  produced  a  happier  scene  than 
this  one,  in  which  the  embodied  Loga',  the  representatives  of  the  two  struggling 
and  opposing  sets  of  opinions  in  Athens,  on  the  subjects  of  religion,  manners, 
morals,  music,  etc.,  are  introduced  upon  the  stage. 

§  There  can  be  no  doubt,  from  the  words  of  the  scholiast,  that  the  Log«,  of 
which  Mr  Cumberland's  terms  Dicaeus  and  Adieus,  give  so  very  inadequate  a 
representation,  were  exhibited  to  the  audience  as  two  fighting  cocks,  in  large 
wicker  cages.  Spurs  of  course  would  he  provided  them;  and  if  the  apologue  of 
Prodicus,  which  Xenophon  has  so  beautifully  dressed  up,  and  of  which  Lowth 
has  given  so  manly  and  nervous  a  version,  was  then  in  being,  the  humour  was 
heightened  by  that  spirit  of  parody,  which  seems  to  have  been  so  agreeable  to 
the  Athenians.  See  on  both  these  subjects  the  German  Attic  Museum.  Zwey- 
ter  Band.  Erlauterung  II. 


46  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

About  the  time  when  the  play  called  the  Clouds  was  brought  before 
a  public  audience,  a  person  was  seen  in  all  the  streets  and  public  places 
of  Athens,  whose  appearance,  manners  and  doctrines  equally  tended  to 
excite  observation.  If  not  a  sophist  himself,  he  was  at  least  seen  con- 
tinually in  the  company  of  the  sophists  ;  and,  as  he  made  no  scruple  to 
practise  upon  them  the  arts  which  they  practised  upon  others,  it  is  no 
wonder  that  an  almost  general  opinion  should  have  considered  him  as 
one  of  the  profession ;  as  a  sophist  more  honest  indeed  than  the  rest, 
but  in  talent,  in  vanity  and  selfconceit  surpassing  them  all.  Like  the 
sophists  and  philosophers,  he  had  given  himself  deeply  and  unremittedly 
to  physical  researches  :  and  in  a  temperament  naturally  melancholy,  it 
had  produced  such  an  effect  upon  his  countenance  and  manners,  that  by 
the  gayer  part  of  his  fellow  citizens,  who  wanted  opportunities  of  know- 
ing him  more  intimately,  an  introduction  to  his  society  was  considered 
as  something  like  venturing  into  the  sombre  cavern  of  Trophonius.  And 
certainly  there  were  not  wanting  reasons  for  forming  such  an  opinion. 
Wrapt  up  in  profound  reveries,  the  ordinary  functions  of  nature  seemed 
sometimes  suspended  in  him — the  vicissitudes  of  day  and  night  passed 
unobserved,  the  necessary  refections  of  rest  and  food  were  neglected, 
and  he  seemed  to  have  derived  from  his  own  experience  the  reproach 
which  he  sometimes  cast  upon  the  other  philosophers,  that  their  native 
town  had  only  possession  of  their  bodies,  but  that  the  air  was  the 
chosen  habitation  of  their  minds.  The  pride  of  knowledge  communi- 
cated a  consequence  which  contrasted  rather  ridiculously  with  the  hu- 
mility of  his  external  appearance ;  his  air  was  stern,  his  step  was  lofty, 
and  his  eyes,  if  not  fixed  upon  the  heavens,  were  thrown  around  with 
an  appearance  of  conscious  importance.  He  was  rather  ostentatious  in 
proclaiming  that  his  father  had  been  a  statuary,  his  mother  a  midwife ; 
and  he  explained,  in  language  highly  ingenious,  but  rather  more  at 
length,  perhaps,  than  was  consistent  with  good  taste,  and  certainly  in 
terms  which  only  a  degraded  state  of  female  estimation  would  allow  to 
be  called  decent,  that  the  profession,  which  his  mother  had  practised, 
was  that  which  he  also  pursued  ;  with  this  difference,  that  he  performed 
for  the  intellect,  what  she  had  done  for  the  body ;  and  that  while  she 
confined  her  attention  to  the  female  sex,  his  obstetric  services  had  been 
devoted  exclusively  to  the  male.  In  his  more  convivial  moments  he 
had  a  term  by  which  he  chose  to  characterize  his  pursuit,  that  requires 
still  more  circumlocution  in  mentioning  ;  it  will  be  sufficient  to  say,  that 
it  came  nearest  to  that  office,  which  is  considered  the  most  degrading 
that  one  man  can  perform  for  another ;  and  he  who  had  accidentally 
seen  the  author  of  it,  coquetting  with  a  graybearded  brother  in  philoso- 
phy, and  aping  the  manners  of  a  courtezan  who  denies,  only  to  be 
courted  to  do,  what  she  wishes,  might  have  been  justified  in  thinking, 
till  circumstances  had  better  informed  him,  that  the  pretended  office 
was  not  merely  assumed  for  the  purposes  of  momentary  pleasantry. 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  47 

By  whatever  name,  however,  he  chose  to  term  his  vocation,  certain  it 
was,  that  no  man  could  be  more  assiduous  in  the  prosecution  of  it. 
"Whoever  was  the  disputant,  or  Avhaiever  the  subject  of  conversation, 
the  discourse  finally  fell  upon  the  head  of  the  person  with  whom  he 
was  conversing.  Armed  with  a  divine  commission,  as  he  pretended, 
for  that  purpose,  and  himself  under  the  immediate  direction  of  a  super- 
natural being,  not  perfectly  naturalized  in  the  theology  of  his  country, 
every  man  was  questioned  by  him  in  turn,  and  found  no  respite,  till  he 
gave  a  complete  account  of  himself: — what  was  his  present  and  what 
had  been  his  past  mode  of  life — and  once  upon  this  topic,  said  one  who 
knew  him  well,  there  is  no  hope  of  escape,  till  you  have  been  put  to 
the  touchstone  torture,  and  your  Avhole  life  sifted  to  the  bottom.  So 
strong  was  this  passion,  that  the  attachment  to  rural  scenes,  Avhich  pre- 
vailed so  strongly  in  most  of  his  fellow-citizens,  in  him  seemed  a  feeling 
almost  extinct — he  was  a  stranger  to  the  environs  of  Athens,  and  was 
scarcely  ever  seen  outside  the  walls.  He  could  gain  no  instruction,  he 
declared,  from  fields  and  trees,  and  nothing  but  a  book  could  entice  him 
to  the  banks  of  the  Ilyssus,  or  that  more  beautiful  stream,  where  Venus 
quenched  her  thirst,  and  in  return  blew  over  it  the  sweetest  breath  of  the 
Zephyrs,  and  sent  the  Loves  to  be  the  companions  of  wisdom.  Man  was 
his  game  ;  and  from  man  he  never  wished  to  be  absent ;  but  the  passion 
was  by  no  means  reciprocal :  a  catechist  so  inquisitorial  was  not  always 
agreeable,  and  the  presence  of  the  philosopher  either  created  a  solitude 
where  he  went,  or  if  he  collected  an  audience,  it  was  among  the  idle  young 
men,  who  took  a  malicious  pleasure  in  his  cutting  remarks,  and  who  im- 
mediately left  him  to  practise  upon  others  the  lessons  which  they  had  just 
received.  In  a  town  where  the  personal  appearance  of  the  male  sex  ex- 
cited more  comments  and  observation  than  the  female,  even  the  exterior 
of  this  person  was  calculated  to  fix  the  attention  of  many,  who  were  not 
disposed  to  penetrate  beyond  it;  and  whatever  merriment  was  excited  on 
this  subject,  it  must  be  owned  that  himself  was  ever  the  first  to  set  the 
joke  afloat.  His  eyes  (to  use  the  words  in  which  he  was  accustomed  to 
draw  his  own  figure,  and  in  which  it  will  be  necessary  to  follow  him,  for 
purposes  that  will  appear  hereafter)  stood  so  forward  in  his  head,  that 
they  enabled  him  not  only  to  see  straight  before  him,  but  even  to  look 
sideways  ;  and  he  used  in  consequence  to  boast,  that  himself  and  a  crab 
were,  of  all  other  animals,  the  two  best  adapted  for  vision.  As  his  eyes 
took  in  a  larger  field  of  vision,  so  his  nostrils,  from  standing  wide  open, 
were  formed  to  embrace  a  larger  compass  of  smell.  His  nose,  too,  from 
its  extreme  depression,  had  in  like  manner  its  advantages;  for,  had  it  been 
aquiline,  instead  of  what  it  was,  it  might  have  stood  like  a  wall  of  separa- 
tion between  his  eyes,  and  thus  have  obstructed  their  vision.  His  mouth 
and  his  lips  were  equally  subjects  of  pleasantry  with  him,  and  the  latter, 
with  reference  to  subjects,  to  which  the  decorousness  of  modern  manners 
does  not  admit  much  allusion.     With  a  view  to  reduce  the  periphery 


48  PRELIMINARY   DISCOURSE. 

of  his  body,  which  certainly  was  not  very  exact  in  its  proportions,  he 
practised  dancing,  and  that  down  to  a  very  advanced  period  of  life ;  not 
merely  to  the  occasional  discomfiture  of  serious  reflection  in  his  pupils, 
but  even  to  the  excitement  of  a  doubt  in  them,  whether  their  master 
was  quite  correct  in  his  senses  : — to  close  this,  not  very  agreeable  part 
of  the  subject: — when  these  pupils  likened  his  whole  exterior  to  that 
of  the  Sileni,  no  doubt  of  the  truth  was  ever  expressed,  and  no  umbrage 
taken  as  at  a  supposed  afl'ront.  Though  little  distinguished  for  beauty 
himself,  some  of  the  handsomest  young  men  of  Athens  were  seen  con- 
tinually in  his  train  :  and  while  they  did  not  scruple  to  take  the  utmost 
liberty  in  expressing  their  opinion  upon  his  deformity,  he  did  not  per- 
haps altogether  find  his  advantage  in  gazing  upon  their  beauty;  for  it 
led  to  the  objection,  which  the  warmest  of  his  admirers  either  did  not 
attempt  to  deny,  or  found  it  necessary  to  palliate,  that  it  led  him  some- 
times to  clothe  the  noblest  operations  and  aspirations  of  the  mind  in  the 
language  of  the  senses,  that  it  engaged  him  to  arrive  at  mental  through 
corporeal  excellence,  and  made  it  appear,  that  the  presence  of  the  beau- 
tiful Agathon,  or  the  interesting  Autolycus  was  necessary,  before  the 
philosopher  could  arrive  at  the  essential  beauty,  the  *wto  x^y  mto,  his 
reveries  about  which  must  have  become  sometimes  a  little  fatiguing  to 
the  most  admiring  of  his  auditors.  With  these  persons,  who  were  never 
many  in  number,  of  whom  the  more  ambitious  deserted  their  master  as 
soon  as  they  had  gained  the  object  which  brought  them  into  his  society, 
and  others  of  whom  left  him  to  form  schools,  whose  names  have  since 
been  synonymous  with  sophistry,*  the  coarsest  effrontery,!  and  the 
most  undisguised  voluptuousness,!  the  greatest  part  of  his  time  was 
spent;  for  the  civil  duties  which  occupied  the  hours  of  others  were 
avocations  which  he  chose  wholly  to  decline  :  he  never  made  part  of 
the  General  Assembly;  he  never  frequented  the  Courts  of  Law;  and 
the  awkward  manner  in  which  he  performed  the  externals  of  a  senator, 
when  necessity  or  accident  brought  him  into  the  situation,  showed  that 
neither  practice  nor  reflection  had  made  him  acquainted  with  the  duties 
of  the  office.  Even  that  duty  which  seemed  peculiarly  connected  with 
his  office  of  a  public  teacher,  that  of  committing  to  writing  the  result  of 
his  studies,  or  giving  a  lasting  habitation  to  those  important  disputations 
in  which  he  was  continually  engaged,  was  a  task  which  he  declined, 
and  for  which  he  had  framed  reasons,  which,  however  satisfactory  to 
himself,  have  by  no  means  been  equally  so  to  those  who  have  lived 
after  him.  To  himself,  however,  one  very  satisfactory  consequence 
resulted  from  these  derelictions,  as  some  did  not  hesitate  to  call  them, 
of  the  duties  of  a  citizen :   it  left  him  the  most  unlimited  leisure  for 

*  The  Megarian  school  under  Eucleid. 
I  The  Cynic  school  under  Antisthenes. 
^  The  Cyrenaic  school  under  Aristippus. 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  4^ 

frequenting,  what  seemed  his  pieculiar  delight,  the  scliools  of  the  sophists, 
and  engaging  in  disputation  with  those  fallacious  pretenders  to  universal 
knowledge.  If  there  were  some  points  in  which  the  sophists  and  him- 
self had  a  certain  similarity,  there  were  many  of  a  trifling,  and  still  mor6 
of  a  serious  nature,  in  which  tliey  were  diametrically  opposite.  While 
the  sophists  went  clad  in  magnificent  garments,  he  appeared  in  the  most 
plain  and  simple  apparel.  The  same  coat  served  him  for  winter  and 
summer,  and  he  preserved  the  oldfashioned  manner  of  his  country  in 
going  always  barefooted  :  he  frequented  the  baths*  but  rarely,  and  never 
indulged  in  the  usual  luxury  of  perfumes.  While  the  sophists  confined 
themselves  to  thie  sons  of  the  wealthy  and  the  gi'eat,  and  were  therefore 
known  to  them  and  them  only,  he  did  not  disdain  to  frequent  the  mean- 
est of  the  artisans,  to  converse  with  tliem  in  their  own  language,  and 
on  topics  with  which  they  were  most  familiar.  There  was  even  a  class 
in  society  still  more  degraded,  which  he  did  not  scruple  occasionally 
to  visit,  and  to  evince,  by  his  instructions,  that  there  was  no  class  of 
Society  whose  pursuits  had  Avliolly  escaped  his  scrutinizing  eye.  The 
effect  of  these  visits  was  very  evident  in  his  language,  arid  those  who 
felt  themselves  annoyed  by  his  raillery,  or  pressed  by  his  acutencss, 
did  not  fail  to  throw  into  his  face  tlie  shipwrights,  the  cobblers,  the 
carpenters  and  weavers,  with  whom  his  habits  of  intercourse  were  not 
unfrequent,  and  from  whom  he  was  so  fond  of  drawing  those  maxims 
and  comparisons,  which  confounded  the  class  of  persons,  to  whosd 
annoyance  and  discomfiture  he  seems  to  hiive  devoted  the  greatest  por- 
tion of  his  time.  It  is  the  language  of  the  chivali-ous  ages,  which  would 
best  do  justice  to  this  part  of  his  character:  and  the  knight,  locked  up 
in  complete  armour,  and  ready  to  run  a-tilt  with  the  first  person  he  met, 
is  the  completest  image  of  tliis  philosopher,  pi-eparirig  to  encounter  the 
sophists,  at  once  apparently  his  enemies  and  his  rivals. 

Every  age,  however,  has  expressions  and  images  in  which  it  cail 
stamp  any  strong  feeling ;  and  the  sophists,  without  the  power  of  recur* 
ring  to  the  language  of  knighthood,  had  many  significant  terms,  by 
which  they  could  express  the  Quixotism  of  this  redoubted  opponent. 
They  compared  him  at  first  to  the  Spartans,  Avho,  if  any  one  approached 
their  palestrae  or  places  of  public  exercise,  obliged  the  intruder  to  make 
choice  between  immediately  retiring  or  joining  in  the  exercises  of  which 
he  was  a  spectator.  But  they  recollected  that  this  was  conceding  too 
much,  and  they  corrected  their  position  by  placing  their  rival  in  the 
same  rank  with  the  Scirons  and  Antaeusses,  who  let  no  passer-by  escape 
them  without  a  previous   encounter.     To  ask  questions  or  to  answer 

*  Arrian.  p]pict.  do  Mundit.  accounts  for  this  abstinence,  by  a  reason,  which 
might  have  justified  Cujas  the  celebrated  lawyer,  Alexander  the  Great,  and  Lord 
Herbert  of  Clicrl)ury,  in  a  similar  j)icco  of  abstinence :  viz.  a  peculiar  sweetness 
of  body,  which  rendered  ablution  unnecessary,  and  perfumes  superfluous. 

7 


50  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

tliem — to  convict  or  to  be  convicted — were,  in  his  own  words,  the  great 
purposes  for  which  men  should  meet  together ;  and  a  person,  who  had 
decreed  that  his  life  should  be  a  complete  logomachy,  could  not  have 
come  to  the  contest  better  prepared ;  nor,  where  words  were  to  be  the 
weapons  of  warfare,  could  any  man  draw  them  from  a  better-provided 
armoury.  That  a  person  possessed  of  so  powerful  a  weapon  should 
sometimes  have  been  a  little  too  much  delighted  with  the  use  of  it,  is 
no  subject  of  wonder.  His  hearers  described  the  effect  of  it  upon  them- 
selves as  resembling  the  effects  of  witchery  and  enchantment :  they 
compared  it  to  the  touch  of  the  torpedo,  which  causes  a  numbness  in 
the  faculties.  Much  was  affirmed  by  him,  and  little  proved — both  sides 
of  a  question  were  alternately  taken,  and  the  result  left  upon  his  hearers' 
minds  was,  that  he  himself  was  in  doubt,  and  only  excited  doubts  in 
others.  The  sophists,  indeed,  by  the  manner  in  which  they  were 
handled,  were  made,  especially  in  hot  weather,  to  perspire  more  copi- 
ously than,  perhaps,  was  agreeable  ;  for  their  subtleties  were  met  with 
niceties  still  more  acute  than  their  own,  and  they  were  entrapped  into 
admissions  of  which  they  did  not  foresee  the  consequence ;  but  their 
falsehoods  were  also  combated  with  positions  which  he  who  advanced 
them  would  have  been  unwilling  to  have  had  considered  as  decidedly 
his  own,  and  in  pursuing  them  into  their  dark  recesses  his  own  gigantic 
powers  could  not  altogether  save  him  from  the  reproach  which  he  cast 
upon  another :  "  the  best  divers  only  should  venture  to  plunge  into  a 
sea  of  such  prodigious  depth."  Such  was  the  person  whom  Aristo- 
phanes selected  to  be  the  hero  of  his  Clouds.  Those  who  are  acquaint- 
ed with  Grecian  affairs  only  through  the  medium  of  history,  will  not, 
perhaps,  recognize  in  this  picture  the  celebrated  son  of  Sophroniscus ; 
and,  were  no  other  traits  added  to  the  above  portrait,  men  of  deeper 
research  might  justly  complain  that  it  showed  no  reluctance  to  exhibit 
the  darker  shades,  and  much  inability  to  describe  the  brighter  parts  of 
a  philosopher,  whose  virtues  and  whose  intellect,  in  spite  of  some 
drawbacks  still  more  serious*  than  any  which  have  hitherto  been  men- 

*  See  nearly  the  whole  of  the  fifth  book  of  the  Republic.  It  was  not  possible 
to  allude  to  this  part  of  the  writings  of  Plato  and  not  immediately  drop  the  mask, 
which,  perhaps,  has  been  worn  too  long  in  the  preceding  description  of  the  son 
of  Sophroniscus ;  but  whoever  rises  from  the  perusal  of  this  stain  upon  a  work, 
otherwise  almost  faultless,  will  feel  it  necessary  to  relieve  his  own  feelings  by 
an  indignant  protest  against  this  portion  of  its  contents.  In  this  lying  book  it 
is  announced  that  a  woman's  virtue  will  serve  her  instead  of  a  robe,  that  the 
useful  is  the  measure  of  the  honourable,  and  that  there  is  nothing  shameful  but 
what  is  hurtful ;  and  upon  these  flimsy  pretences  the  same  outrage  upon  the 
feelings,  by  the  exhibition  of  the  sex  in  the  exercises  of  the  palaestra,  as  obtained 
in  Sparta,  is  recommended  for  practice  in  a  Utopian  form  of  government.  In 
this  absurd  book  man  is  considered  as  an  animal,  whose  actions,  on  the  tenderest 
points,  are  to  be  determined  by  the  pleasure  of  the  law ;  as  a  physical  agent, 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  51 

tioned,  have  been  justly  allowed  to  form  an  epoch  in  the  history  of 
man. 

Having  thus  got  his  central  figure,  the  attention  of  the  author  was 
next  turned  to  that  most  peculiar  part  of  the  ancient  drama,  the  Chorus. 
It  has  been  remarked  by  W.  Schlegel  as  one  of  the  peculiarities  of 
Aristophanes,  that  he  is  fond  of  adopting  a  metaphor  literally,  and  ex- 
hibiting it  in  this  way  before  the  eyes  of  the  spectators.*  As  a  person 
given  to  abstraction  and  solitary  speculation  is  proverbially  said  to  have 
his  head  in  the  clouds,  it  was  but  another  step,  therefore,  in  the  poet's 
creative  mind  to  make  the  clouds  the  chorus  of  his  piece  ;  as  of  the 
person,  whose  abstractions  and  reveries  seemed  to  make  him  most 
conversant  with  them,  he  had  formed  the  hero  of  the  piece.  By  this 
contrivance  the  author  wove  into  his  performance  the  mob  (no  incon- 
siderable body  in  Athens)  who  assisted  the  sophists  in  the  perversion 
of  the  public  mind — 


whose  proceedings  in  those  contracts,  where  nature  tells  us  our  own  will  ought 
to  have  the  greatest  share,  are  made  to  depend  solely  upon  the  will  of  the  ma- 
gistrate. In  this  most  unfeeling  book  all  the  great  ties  of  our  condition — paren- 
tal, filial,  and  connubial — are  proposed  to  be  severed  at  a  blow;  nature,  it 
appears,  having  made  a  mistake  in  investing  us  with  such  feelings ;  or  the  phi- 
losopher forgetting  that  our  feelings  become  enfeebled  in  proportion  as  they  are 
carried  beyond  their  limits,  and  that  they  may  be  carried  so  far  as  to  become  less 
than  nothing.  In  this  g'lH/i/  book  lying  is  made  a  statutable,  constitutional 
branch  of  duty  in  the  first  magistrates  of  the  state — the  promiscuous  concubinage 
of  the  sexes  is  established  as  a  fundamental  law  of  society,  and  exposition  of 
children,  suppression  and  abortion,  are  set  down,  not  among  things  permitted, 
but  among  things  enjoined.  There  is  a  respect  due  to  the  pul)Hc  ear,  and  it 
becomes  us  to  proceed  no  farther:  the  feelings  of  sickness  and  of  loathing, 
which  some  further  matter  in  the  book  would  infallibly  excite,  may  well  be 
spared.  And  all  this  is  to  take  place  in  a  state  which  is  set  up  as  a  model  of 
perfection !  And,  as  if  to  add  mockery  to  insult,  the  propositions  are  made  with 
pleasantry  and  en  badinanf;  and  the  promulgator  of  them  charitably  demands, 
that,  if  they  cannot  be  reduced  to  practice,  their  author  may  be  put  upon  a  foot- 
ing with  those  idle  persons  who  entertain  themselves  agreeably  with  their  reve- 
ries, and  feed  upon  them  merely  for  the  purpose  of  dissipating  the  ennui  of 
solitude !  Upon  whom  ti\e  guilt  of  them  rests — upon  the  teacher  or  the  scholar 
— it  is  not  now  possible  to  say ;  they  are  put  into  the  mouth  of  Socrates  by 
Plato,  and  we  should  hardly  think  that  he  could  have  ventured  upon  ascribing 
such  opinions  to  his  master,  if  there  had  not  been  some  authority  for  such  a 
proceeding. 

*  All  early  literature,  in  fact,  is  fond  of  these  associations.  We  may  turn 
to  every  page  almost  of  the  Inferno  of  Dante  for  examples.  The  schismatics, 
in  the  28th  Canto,  who  walk  "  Fessi  nel  volto  dal  mento  al  ciuffetto,"  and  the 
headless  trunk,  which  bears  its  head  in  the  hand,  "  Perch'  i'  parti'  cosi  giunie 
persone,"  occur  instantly. 


52  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

The  fortunetellers, 
Quacks,  medicinemongers,  bards  bombastlcal, 
Chorusprojectors,  starinterpreters, 
And  wonderworking  cheats. 

The  effect  of  this  personification  in  the  original  theatre  was  no  doubt 
very  striking.  A  solemn  invocation  calls  down  the  Clouds  from  their 
ethereal  abode — their  approach  is  announced  by  thunder — they  chaunt 
a  lyric  ode  as  they  descend  to  the  earth,  and,  after  wakening  attention 
by  a  well  managed  delay,  they  are  brought  personally  on  the  stage  as  a 
troop  of  females,  "  habited,"  says  Mr  Cumberland,  "  no  doubt  in  cha- 
racter, and  floating  cloudlike  in  the  dance."  All  this  we  can  easily 
conceive  ;  but  a  more  curious  part  of  their  duty  must  be  left  to  be  sup- 
plied (and  that  but  very  imperfectly)  by  the  imagination.  Recitation 
was  not  the  only  part  which  the  chorus  had  to  perform ;  a  great 
share  of  their  office  lay  in  their  feet,  as  well  as  in  their  tongue,  and 
both  author  and  actor  were  expected  to  be  great  proficients,  the  former 
in  the  composition,  the  latter  in  the  practice,  of  those  movements  and 
evolutions  which,  as  we  find  Aristotle  classing  them  with  poetry,  music 
and  painting,  and  Lucian  terming  them  a  science  of  imitation  and 
exhibition,  which  explained  the  conceptions  of  the  mind,  and  certified 
to  the  organs  of  sense  things  naturally  beyond  their  reach,  we  may 
easily  conceive  to  have  consisted  of  something  more  than  the  elegant 
movements  which  now  go  under  the  name  of  dancing.  Had  the  trea- 
tises of  Sophocles  and  Aristocles  on  the  subject  of  the  chorus  come 
down  to  us,  or  had  those  statues  not  been  lost  from  which  ideas  of  the 
attitudes  of  the  ancient  dancers  might  have  been  collected,  (for  every 
movement  of  the  body,  we  are  given  to  understand  by  Athenaeus,  was 
observed,  in  order  to  collect  those  gestures  which  might  afford  a  concert 
for  the  eye,  modulated  upon  that  which  was  at  the  same  time  presented 
to  the  ear,)  we  might  have  spoken  with  more  confidence  on  what  must 
now  remain  a  subject  full  of  perplexity  and  obscurity.  As  all  dancing, 
however,  among  the  Greeks  was  of  the  mimetic  kind,  whatever  was  the 
nature  of  the  tragic  dance,  we  may  be  sure  that  the  comic  dance  stood 
in  the  same  relation  of  parody  to  it,  as  the  comedy  itself  of  the  ancients 
did  to  their  tragedy ;  and  to  have  enjoyed  the  mimetic  movements  of 
the  cordax,  or  dance  of  comedy,  we  ought  to  have  witnessed  in  the 
tragic*  chorus  those  movements,  whose  general  name  (emmeleia)  im- 

*  The  author  understood  this  best  from  witnessing,  in  the  beautiful  theatre  at 
Stutgard,  a  representation  of  Schiller's  Bride  of  Messina.  It  was  substituting, 
indeed,  the  ear  for  the  eye,  and  sound  in  the  place  of  motion ;  but  the  senses 
easily  transfer  their  feelings  from  one  to  another.  In  that  rnost  splendid  testi- 
mony of  Schiller's  genius,  modelled,  I  need  scarcely  observe,  upon  the  drama 
of  the  ancients,  and  which  might,  in  many  of  its  parts,  be  mistaken  for  a  reco- 
vered piece  of  antiquity,  the  Chorus  makes  a  very  distinguished  figure,  and,  on 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  53 

plies  accordance  and  a  modulated  harmony  in  the  play  of  the  characters. 
How  far  this  mimetic  province  of  the  dance  was  called  into  action  by 
the  CHORUS  of  the  Clouds,  what  steps  were  used  in  their  parabases  to 
give  effect  to  the  rhythm,*  what  pauses  in  the  metre*  were  supplied  by 
action,  what  gestures  at  once  aided  and  gave  life  to  the  music,  and  in 
what  manner  the  metaphysical  speculations  of  the  sophists,  which, 
resting  on  no  ground  of  experience,  floated  about  in  the  kingdom  of 
possibilities  without  any  definite  shape  or  body — how  far  all  this  was 
ridiculed  by  appropriate  movements  and  evolutions,  must  now  be  left 
to  the  fancy:  we  may  be  sure,  however,  that  the  fruitful  mind  of  the 
poet  who  invented  one  of  the  most  powerful  and  graceful  metresf  in  the 
Greek  language,  would  not  be  deficient  in  giving  effect  to  his  mental 
creations  by  all  the  effects  of  scenic  decoration,  and  all  the  additions  of 
costume,  music,  and  dancing.l     In  this  union  of  talents  lay  the  great 

a  person  conversant  vvitl\  the  writings  of  antiquity,  it  cannot  fail  to  make  a  most 
powerful  impression.  The  effect  of  a  number  of  human  voices  iijitonating  the 
same  sentiments,  in  the  same  words,  the  same  tone,  the  same  inflection  of  voice, 
and  in  the  same  modulated  cadences,  is  something  which,  to  be  well  understood, 
must  have  been  heard.  The  prophetic  forebodings  of  the  chorus,  towards  the 
close  of  the  piece — their  IVeh  .'  Wehe .'  Wche .'  IVehe.'  have  not  yet  departed 
from  my  ears ;  and  I  have  never  since  read  a  chorus  or  parabasis  of  Aristophanes 
without  feeling  the  humour  increased  tenfold,  by  the  reflection,  that  on  the  Greek 
stage  its  native  wit  would  have  been  heightened  by  the  triple  parody  of  diction, 
sound  and  motion. 

*  As  mistakes  are  apt  to  occur  in  the  use  of  these  two  words,  the  following 
definitions  of  them,  from  the  acute  author  of  "  Philological  Inquiries"  are  sub- 
joined. 

Rhythm  difiors  from  metre  in  as  much  as  rhythm  is  proportion,  applied  fto 
any  motion  whatever :  metre  is  proportion,  applied  to  the  motion  of  words 
spoken.  Thus  in  the  drumming  of  a  march  or  the  dancing  of  a  hornpipe,  there 
is  rhythm,  though  no  metre ;  in  Dryden's  celebrated  ode  there  is  metre  as  well 
as  rhythm,  because  the  poet  with  the  rhythm  has  associated  certain  words. 
And  hence  it  follows,  that  though  all  metre  is  rhythm,  yet  all  rhythm  is  not 
metre. 

f  The  Aristophanic  tetrameter.  In  its  happy  mixture  of  anapestic  and  spon- 
daic feet,  this  metre  combines  a  degree  of  strength  and  playfulness  which  no 
other  language  can  hope  to  reach.  It  is  the  want  of  a  metre  of  this  kind,  which 
makes  every  scholar  feel  a  sensible  deficiency  in  Mr  Cumberland's  translation 
of  the  Clouds,  where  it  not  only  tends  to  destroy  the  poetical  effect,  but  assists 
in  giving  a  wrong  idea  of  the  feelings  under  which  the  original  play  was  prima- 
rily composed. 

X  Those  who  are  conversant  with  the  works  of  antiquity  (and  more  particu- 
larly with  the  writings  of  Plato,  Aristotle  and  Lucian)  are  well  aware,  that  each 
of  these  subjects  might  afford  matter  for  a  treatise  and  not  for  the  scanty  notices 
which  the  limits  of  this  publication  allow.  On  the  subject  of  the  latter  more 
particularly,  even  the  graceful  dancer  (Dcshayes,)  whose  retirement  has,  now 
for  some  years,  made  as  great  a  void  in  tlie  attractions  of  the  Operatic  ballet,  as 


54  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

merit  and  difficulty  of  the  ancient  dramatists  ;  and  in  this  lies  the  de- 
pressing part  of  those  who  endeavovir  to  give  the  public  an  idea  of  their 
works  by  translation.  Conscious  of  what  ought  to  be  done,  and  what 
they  know  never  can  be  done,  the  unfinished  appearance  of  their 
labours  throws  a  damp  upon  their  toils,  and  they  relinquish  a  work  in 
despair,  where  they  feel  that  their  happiest  efforts  can  only  be  a  species 
of  galvanism,  giving  motion  to  a  muscle,  to  a  leg,  to  an  arm,  but  im- 
potent and  powerless  to  breathe  the  breath  of  life  into  the  whole. 

We  have  now  gone  through  what  appears  to  have  been  the  object  of 
this  very  singular  drama,  the  Clouds,  and  the  process  by  which  it  was 
moulded  into  the  form  it  now  bears.  The  author  might  surely  be  par- 
doned for  supposing  that  a  piece  thus  carefully  and  laboriously  con- 
structed would  have  met  with  a  reception  far  more  flattering  than  had 
attended  any  of  his  former  plays.  We  know,  however,  from  his  own 
confession,  which  is  certainly  more  valid  than  Madame  Dacier's  conjec- 
tures, that  this  was  not  the  case ;  that  the  prize  of  victory  was  assigned 
to  the  Wine  Flask  of  Cratinus,  (that  Cratinus  who  collected  his  declin- 
ing powers  to  show  a  youthful  and  not  altogether  forbearing  rival,  that 
he  could  still  contest  the  palm  with  him,)  and  to  the  Connus  of  the 
cold  and  spiritless  Ameipsias.  This  was  sufficiently  mortifying ;  and 
the  author,  by  his  frequent  complaints,  showed  that  he  felt  it  to  be  so. 
Had  Aristophanes  been  aware  that  the  loss  of  his  reputation  with  a 
great  portion  of  posterity  would  also  be  the  price  of  the  exhibition,  we 
must  suppose  him  to  have  been  without  the  feelings  of  a  man,  if  we 
imagine  that  the  temporary  defeat  at  Athens  could  have  been  anything 
in  the  balance  to  him,  compared  with  the  severe  judgment  which  mo- 
dern writers  in  general  have  passed  upon  the  author  of  the  Clouds. 
Upon  what  ground  these  decisions  took  place,  and  whether  the  poet's 
contemporaries  acted  towards  him  with  candour,  or  posterity  with  a 
just  knowledge  of  the  subject,  it  now  remains  for  us  to  consider.  It 
may,  upon  investigation,  appear  that  the  wit  of  the  Clouds  may  be 
relished  without  diminishing  any  of  the  respect  justly  due  to  Socrates, 
and  that  Aristophanes,  for  this  piece,  as  well  as  others,  is  more  entitled 
to  our  gratitude  than  common  readers  are  at  all  aware  of.  It  will  be  as 
well  to  begin  with  the  failure  of  the  piece  at  the  time  of  its  exhibition. 
When  we  talk  of  a  piece  failing  in  our  own  country,  everybody 
knows  what  is  meant ;  the  taste  of  the  writer  and  the  taste  of  the  audi- 
ence, it  is  immediately  understood,  were  at  variance,  and  the  sentiments 
of  the  latter,  pretty  unequivocally  expressed,  obliged  the  former  to 
withdraw  the  obnoxious  object  from  further  obtrusion   upon   public 

that  of  the  most  accomplished  of  actors  has  done  in  the  classic  and  more  dignified 
departments  of  the  drama,  even  he  would  be  startled  were  we  to  mention  the 
twentieth  part  of  what  was  expected  by  the  ancients  from  a  perfect  dancer  and 
mime. 


PRELIMINARY   DISCOURSE.  55 

notice.  This  does  not  altogether  answer  to  the  case  of  a  dramatic 
failure  among  the  Greeks.  With  them,  a  contributor  to  tlieir  scenic 
exhibitions  (and  we  shall  betray  an  entire  ignorance  of  the  manners  of 
antiquity,  if  our  imaginations  place  him,  altogether,  in  the  same  scale 
of  estimation  with  those  who  devote  their  talents  to  the  same  difficult 
pursuit  in  modern  times)  had  two  or  three  distinct  sets  of  enemies  to 
encounter- — the  archon,  with  whom  lay  the  power  of  rejecting  his  piece 
in  the  first  instance ;  the  audience,  to  whom,  after  permission  obtained 
from  the  ruling  magistrate,  it  was  presented  ;  and  thirdly,  the  critical 
overseers  ("S't*'.)  whose  business  it  was,  under  the  restrictions  of  a  so- 
lemn oath,  to  adjudge  the  prize  of  victory,  (a  victory*  sought  with  an 
eagerness  of  competition  of  which  we  can  scarcely  form  a  conception,) 
to  what  they  thought  the  most  distinguished  of  the  competing  pieces. 
The  audience  and  the  umpires,  it  will  easily  be  imagined,  were  not 
always  unanimous  in  their  opinion ;  the  judges  sometimes  favouring, 
and  the  spectators  condemning,  or  the  latter  applauding  and  the  former 
disapproving.  Which  party  favoured  the  Clouds?  If  we  listen  to 
iElian,  whose  testimony  however  stands  amid  such  a  tissue  of  false- 
hoods, that  his  opinion  is  scarcely  worth  a  reference,  the  Clouds  ap- 
peared so  delicious  to  the  ears  of  the  audience,  that  they  applauded  as 
no  audience  ever  applauded  before ;  they  cricdf  out  tiiat  the  victory 
belonged  to  Aristophanes,  and  they  ordered  the  judges  to  inscribe  his 
name  accordingly.  If  this  story  be  true,  the  fall  of  the  piece,  which 
consisted  in  not  gaining  the  dramatic  crown,  must  be  ascribed  to  the 
presiding  critics,  and  we  should  have  to  account  why  they  were  at 
variance  with  the  audience  :  and  this  would  be  no  very  difficult  task. 
How  many:|:  the  judges  were  on  these  occasions,  and  how  they  were 

*  The  more  serious  excitements  to  victory  are  inserted  in  a  note,  in  the  co- 
medy of  the  Knights,  which  describes  the  office  of  Choregus;  a  superb  banquet, 
given  by  the  triumphant  tribe  to  their  successful  poet,  it  may  be  presumed  had 
also  its  effect.  We  find  the  great  comic  poet  alluding  to  this  custom  in  more 
than  one  of  his  plays. 

t  The  lunuilt  of  an  Athenian  audience  at  the  theatres  is  described  with  great 
spirit  in  the  French  Anacharsis.  The  facts  are  collected  from  various  ancient 
authors;  and  thej'- form  the  best  comment  on  what  Plato  somewhere  calls  the 
Theatrocracy  of  Athens.  "  On  le  voit  par  degres  murmurer  sourdement,  rire 
avec  eclat,  pousser  des  cris  tumultueux  contra  I'acteur,  I'accabler  de  sifflets, 
frapper  des  pieds  pour  I'obliger  de  quitter  la  seine,  lui  f aire  oter  son  masque  pour 
jnuir  de  sa  fionte,  ordonner  au  heraut  d'appeler  un  autre  acteur  qui  est  mis  a 
I'amende  s'il  n'est  pas  present,  quelquefois  me  me  demander  qu'on  inflige  au 
premier  des  peines  dcshonorantes.  Ni  I'age,  la  celebrite,  ni  de  longs  services 
ne  sauraient  le  garantir  de  ces  rigoureux  traitemens.  De  nouvoaux  succes  peu- 
vent  seuls  Pen  dcdommager ;  car  dans  I'occasion  on  bat  des  mains,  et  I'on  ap- 
plaudit  avec  le  meme  plaisir  et  la  meme  fureur.     Le  Jeuna  Anach.  t.  vi.  p.  92. 

X  Barthelemy,  speaking  on  this  subject,  (and  he  cannot  be  accused  of  want- 
ing diligence  in  his  researches,)  says,  "  II  ne  m'a  pas  etc  possible  de  fixer  le 


56  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

appointed,  ancient  authors  have  not  left  us  any  very  satisfactory  intel- 
ligence ;  but  that  they  were  not  always  correct  in  their  critical  opinions, 
ihe  wellknown  anecdotes  of  Philemon  and  Menander,  among  many 
others,  sufficiently  testify;  and  that  this  incorrectness  did  not  always 
proceed  from  mere  errour  in  judgment,  we  find  Aristophanes  pretty 
clearly  hinting,*  and  Xenophon,  in  his  Symposium,  very  plainly  de- 
claring. Now  if  the  judge  in  the  theatre  was,  like  the  dicast  in  the 
courts  of  law,  not  inaccessible  to  a  bribe,  we  may  easily  believe,  that 
the  sophists  and  their  friends,  among  whom  must  be  classed  the  sons 
and  relatives  of  all  the  richest  men  in  Athens,  and  who  had  possessed 
interest  enough  but  three  or  four  years  before  to  shut  up  the  comic 
theatre  altogether,  would  not  be  idle  in  taking  every  means  to  quash  an 
opponent,  who  had  already  given  proofs  that  he  could  deal  blows,  if 
Hot  harder,  at  least  more  effective,  than  even  those  which  the  strong- 
handed  Cratinus  had  administered.  If  that  intimacy  too  subsisted  be- 
tween Socrates  and  Alcibiades,  which  Plato  would  make  us  believe, 
but  which  XenOphon,  so  often  at  variance  with  liis  great  fellow  pupil  of 
the  Socratic  school,  almost  denies,  we  may  believe  that  this  young 
person,  the  most  intemperate,  insolent,  and  violent,  according  to  the 
latter,  of  all  the  young  men  of  rank  in  Athens,  would  bestir  himself  in 
favour  of  a  preceptor,  who,  if  he  could  not  gain  his  affections  by  his 
lessons  of  virtue  and  wisdom,  had  at  least  a  claim  upon  his  gratitude 
for  having  the  preceding  year  saved  his  life  in  battle.  But  there  are 
reasons  to  make  us  disagree  with  ^lian,  and  oblige  us  to  think  that  it 
was  the  audience,  and  not  the  judges,  to  whom  must  be  ascribed  the  ill 
success  of  the  piece.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  Clouds  failed, 
and  there  is  as  little  doubt  that  the  author  recast  his  piece  with  the  in- 
tention of  bringing  it  before  the  audience  a  second  time  ; — that  it  was 
so  brought,  the  acutest  modern  critics  seem  to  doubt.  By  some  curious 
accident,  it  so  happens  that  the  play  originally  condemned  has  come 
down  to  us  Avith  fpart  of  a  parabasis  (or  address  to  the  audience)  evi- 

nombre  des  juges  ;  j'en  ai  compte  quelquefois  cinq,  quelquefois  sept,  et  d'autres 
fois  davantage,"  t.  vi.  p.  75.  De  Paiiw  speaks  with  the  same  uncertainty  as  to 
the  number  of  judges  appointed  for  these  solemn  decisions.  Recherches  Philo- 
sopliiqucs,  t.  i.  p.  184. 

*  In  Avibus,  1102.  "Jamais  on  nevit,"  says  the  author  last  quoted,  "  des 
decisions  comparables  aux  decisions  de  ce  tribunal-la  :  souvent  il  rejetoit  avec 
mepris  les  plus  grands  chef-d'ceuvres  d'Euripide  en  de  Menandre,  et  couronnoit 
les  pieces  les  plus  absurdes  et  les  plus  ridicules.  II  faut,  dit  Elien,  que  de  deux 
choses  il  en  soit  necessairement  arrive  une  :  ou  les  juges  du  theatre  d'Athenes 
se  laissoient  aveugler  par  une  grand  partialite,  ou  ils  se  laissoient  corrompre  par 
une  grande  somme  de  drachmes  antiques.  Mais  il  me  paroit,  qu'ils  n'etoient 
pas  aussi  souvent  frappes  de  vertigo  qu'eblouis  par  I'eclat  de  I'argent,  malgre  le 
vain  appareil  de  leur  serment." 

f  Mr  Cumberland,  who  was  not  aware  of  this  circumstance,  has  been  led 
into  some  errours  by  it  in  his  translation  of  the  Clouds.    The  learned  Madame 


PRELIMINARY   DISCOURSE.  57 

dently  intended  for  the  second.  The  author  here  complains  pretty- 
bitterly  (for  Aristophanes  was  clearly  a  man  of  warm  feelings)  of  the 
injustice  which  had  been  done  to  this  most  elaborate  of  all  his  perform- 
ances ;  but  he  no  where  hints  at  the  judicial  overseers  as  the  occasion 
of  its  failure ;  on  the  contrary,  the  reproach  is  directed  against  the 
spectators,  and  from  the  epithet  he  attaches  to  them,  we  may  see  that 
it  was  a  class  of  spectators  not  usually  found  in  the  comic  theatre.  Tlie 
nature  of  the  poet's  subject,  and  the  unusual  labour,  which,  as  he  inti- 
mates more  than  once,  he  had  bestowed  upon  the  composition  of  it,  had 
evidently  led  him  to  reckon  upon  an  audience  of  a  somewhat  higher 
description  than  usual ;  and  as  the  keenest  amateur  of  the  Theatre 
Francois  sometimes  deserts  the  sublime  acting  of  Talma  for  the  inimi- 
table buffooneries  of  Totier  and  Brunet,  so  Aristophanes  seems  to  have 
thought  that  he  might  reasonably  calculate  upon  having,  for  once  at 
least,  the  gentlemen  of  Athens  (tlie  x.aKoiKa.ya^oi'^  among  his  hearers. 
That  they  did  attend,  and  that  they  assisted  in  the  demolition  of  the 
piece  with  the  less  enlightened  of  the  audience,  is  pretty  clearly  inti- 
mated in  the  poet's  own  words. 

tolvt'  hv  Vfxn  fxtjupo/umt 
ton  s^opo/f,  eel  hhk*  iyce  tclvt'  iTr^ay/ua.TtuofjLHV 

In  his  play  of  the  succeeding  year,  the  Wasps,  Aristophanes  again 
complains  of  the  failure  of  his  Clouds,  and  mentions  the  direct  reason 
of  its  failure,  viz.  a  novelty  of  invention,  which  the  audience  had  not 
the  merit  to  appreciate.  Had  we  not  this  direct  testimony  of  the  author, 
our  researches  would  have  led  us  to  this  very  conclusion.  The  subject 
of  the  Clouds  turned  upon  one  of  the  most  serious  and  important  con- 
siderations in  human  affairs,  the  science  of  education :  and  what  con- 
nection was  there  between  this  and  the  Dionysian  Festival,  where  every 
one  came  to  be  amused  ;  where  he  who  laughed  loudest  was  the  mer- 
riest, and  he  that  laughed  longest  was  the  wisest  ?  Why  were  the 
Athenian  rabble  to  be  cheated  of  their  Bacchanalian  festivity,  and  to  be 
passed  off  with  a  lecture,  which,  though  conveyed  through  the  medium 
of  two  fighting  cocks,  had  yet  something  too  serious  in  it,  to  be  suffi- 
ciently piquant  for  an  Athenian  audience  just  ripe  for  all  the  nonsense 
of  holiday  revelry  ?  What  was  it  to  them  how  the  education  of  the 
higher  classes  was  conducted ;  or  what  did  they  care  for  the  opinions 
of  Protagoras  or  Polus,  of  Prodicus  or  Gorgias  ?  The  persons  and  the 
sentiments  of  these  fashionable  sophists  would  be  equally  unknown,  it 
is  most  probable,  to  the  greater  part  of  such  an  audience  as  generally 

Dacier,  whose  enthusiastic  admiration  of  Aristophanes  led  her,  if  I  remember 
right,  to  peruse  his  "  Clouds"  no  less  than  two  hundred  times,  (being  precisely 
the  same  number  of  lections  as  Al-farabi  is  said  to  have  given  to  the  rhetoric  of 
Aristotle,)  has  fallen  into  the  same  mistake. 

8 


58  PRELIMINARY   DISCOURSE. 

filled  the  comic  theatres  at  Athens.     To  add  to  this  unfortunate  choice 
of  subject,  Aristophanes  added  another  errour,  viz.  an  unfortunate  choice 
of  time ;  for  he  selected  for  his  representation  of  the  Clouds  that  parti- 
cular festival,  when  strangers  as  well  as  natives  were  admitted  to  the 
theatrical  entertainments,  and  when  of  the  thirty  thousand  spectators 
who  were  present,  half,  at  least,  were  probably  strangers.     And  what 
was  Socrates,  the  son  of  Sophroniscus,  the  statuary,*  and  Phaenaret, 
the  midwife,  to  them  ?  Pericles  and  Cleon  were  names  familiar  to  their 
ears,  and  any  hint  upon  the  subject  of  politics,  obtained  through  the 
introduction  of  them  upon  the  stage,  was  abundantly  grateful ;  but  what 
had  they  to  do  with  an  obscure  philosopher,  whose  name  was  hardly 
known  in  his  own  native  town,  and  the  introduction  of  whom  upon  the 
stage,  as  the  hero  of  a  piece,  was  an  honour  which  had  perhaps  never 
before  been  conferred  upon  a  person  of  his  rank  in  life,  and  which  his 
envious  and  jealous  peers  were  not  likely  to  see  bestowed  without  ex- 
treme jealousy  and  ill  will?     Strangers  would  naturally  ask,  as  we 
learn  from  iElian  they  actually  did — Who  is  this  Socrates  t  and  if,  as 
that  same  author  relates,  Socrates  stood  up  in  the  theatre  to  gratify  the 
curiosity  thus  excited,  it  will  be  no  uncharitable  remark  to  impute  it, 
partly,  to  his  sense  of  the  opportunity  thus  offered  for  gaining  a  name 
in  society,  an  advantage  which,  to  a  person  of  his  pursuits  in  life,  was 
of  incalculable  importance.     This  is,  perhaps,  sufficient  to  show  upon 
what  general  grounds  the  Clouds  fell ;  but  there  are  also  some  particular 
ones,  which  might  not  be  without  a  share  in  its  rejection.     In  his  play 
of  the  preceding  year,  (the  Demagogues,)  Aristophanes  had  passed  some 
severe  sarcasms  upon  his  countrymen  for  their  general  ingratitude  to 
their  comic  poets ;  and  though  the  extraordinary  merit  of  the  perform- 
ance had  carried  the  poet  successfully  through  at  the  time,  the  Athenians, 
when  their  enthusiasm  was  over,  were  not  a  people  likely  to  forget  the 
affront,  nor  to  let  it  pass  with  impunity.     A  rival  bard,  whose  name 
had  been  introduced  into  that  performance,  furnished  them,  on  the  fol- 
lowing year,  with  the  triple  means  of  indemnifying  themselves,  of  re- 
warding an  old  favourite,  and  reducing  the  pride  of  a  young  competitor. 
Cratinus,  in  short,  whom  Aristophanes  had  considered  as  a  man  past 
his  labours,  resented  the  affronts  put  upon  him ;  and  in  return  for  a 
train  of  somewhat  suspicious  compliment,  not  without  a  hint  or  two  at 
infirmities  which  intemperance  had  created,  he  brought  forward  a  co- 
medy called  the  Wine  Flask,  the  subject  of  which  was  founded  on  his 
young  rival's  allusions ;  and  to  this  piece,  more  suited  in  its  nature  and 

*  Sophroniscus  is  somewhere  mentioned  by  Lucian  as  an  hermoglyphist ;  a 
person  whose  business  it  was  to  engrave  inscriptions  on  marble,  or  rather  on  the 
Hermaic  statues.  The  profession  of  the  father  of  Socrates  would,  according  to 
this,  rank  between  the  sculptor  and  the  common  stonemason. 


PRELIMINARY   DISCOURSE.  59 

its  allusions  to  a  Bacchanalian  festival  than  discussions  upon  education, 
the  prize  of  victory,  as  we  learn  by  the  Didascaliae,  was  adjudged. 

With  candid  and  discerning  readers,  the  present  writer  feels  no  doubt 
that  the  way  has  already  been  paved  for  the  justification  of  Aristophanes 
by  the  preceding  remarks,  and  that  many  errours,  which  might  have 
arisen  in  their  minds  from  confounding  the  ancient  drama  witli  the 
modern,  (than  which  no  two  things  can  be  more  dissimilar,)  have  been 
altogether  removed.  It  is  not  for  him  to  tell  them  what  inferences  are 
to  be  drawn  from  the  circumstances  which  have  been  incidentally  men- 
tioned— that  Aristophanes  did  not  invent  the  Old  Comedy,  but  found 
it  ready  made  to  his  hands — that  in  his  satirical*  and  even  his  indecentf 
vein  he  acted  upon  established  principles ;  principles  which,  however 
inconsistent  with  our  notions  upon  such  subjects,  found  sanction  in  tlie 
very  religion  of  the  times.  The  information  given  respecting  the  masks 
has  apprised  them,  that  the  audience  came  to  the  exhibition  with  a 
previous  knowledge  that  they  were  to  consider  what  they  saw  merely 
as  a  harmless!  caricature ;  the  comic  poet  being  to  them,  something  like 

*  The  Athenians  were,  in  fact,  at  all  times,  (independently  of  their  Baccha- 
nalian festivals,)  a  race  of  scoffers.  Their  comic  poets  exceed  their  tragic  in  a 
very  large  ratio;  and  a  nation  must  have  been  far  gone  in  mirth,  which  thought 
it  necessary  to  exact  an  oath  of  the  grave  Archon,  that  he  had  not  written  a 
comedy.  They,  who  trace  the  wars  of  Louis  XIV.  to  an  illconstructed  window, 
and  the  politics  of  Queen  Anne's  court  to  a  cup  of  tea  thrown  over  Mrs  Masham's 
gown,  will  not  fail  to  see  the  Greek  propensity  to  slander  rather  than  panegyric, 
even  in  the  metrical  canons  of  their  dramas.  It  was  sufficient  for  the  most  ele- 
vated person  to  have  an  unfortunate  combination  of  syllables  in  his  name,  to 
prevent  him  from  furnishing  matter  for  the  delicate  mouth  of  the  Tragic  Muse; 
but  comedy  boulted  him,  under  every  species  of  refractory  appellation.  In  the 
trochaic  tetrameter,  he  could  be  introduced  as  a  dactyl,  and  even  in  the  place  of 
the  regular  dipodia,  he  was  served  up  as  a  choriambns,  or  an  Ionic  ^  minore. 
The  persecuted  anapest,  which  was  so  cautiously  admitted  into  the  iambic  sena- 
rius,  found  a  city  of  refuge  with  the  comic  poets ;  ;md  when  vituperation  was  to 
be  dealt,  it  did  not  of  necessity  follow  witii  ihcm,  that  the  catalectic  dipodia  or 
K*Ttui\u(  of  the  iambic  tetrameter,  should  be  a  bacchius. 

f  In  addition  to  the  works  referred  to  on  a  former  occasion,  may  be  added  the 
treatises  of  Joannes  Nicolaus  and  Petrus  Castellanus  in  the  valuable  Thesaurus 
of  Gronovius,  tom.  vii.  It  was  not  supposed  that  the  chastest  mind  was  injured 
by  Joining  in  these  Bacchanalian  revels.  Diog.  Laert.  lib.  ii.  §  78.  See  also 
Lucian  in  Amor.  v.  5.  p.  317.  Plato,  in  one  of  the  gravest  of  his  works,  consi- 
ders drunkenness  as  not  only  allowable,  but  even  as  a  sort  of  duty  on  the 
Dionysian  Festivals.     De  Leg.  lib.  vi.  p.  623.  B. 

^  Wieland  has  written  an  essay  of  considerable  length  on  the  subject  of  the 
differences  between  Socrates  and  Aristophanes.  As  his  view  of  the  subject  is 
entirely  different  from  the  one  here  taken  up,  his  line  of  argument  is,  of  course, 
as  different;  he  fully  agrees  with  the  present  writer,  hovveve'r,  in  thinking  that 
no  consequences  ever  resulted  from  the  exhibitions  of  the  comic  theatre,  and  that 


60  PRELIMINARY   DISCOURSE. 

what  a  Gilray  was  to  us ;  with  this  difference,  that  the  former  drew 
entirely  from  his  own  resources,  while  that  ingenious  caricaturist  often 
acted  upon  the  suggestions  of  wiser  heads  than  his  own.  As  these  plays 
were  acted  only  once,  the  reader  will  tell  himself,  that  it  became  a  ne- 
cessity that  the  impression  made  should  be  a  strong  one ;  and  this 
necessity  will  be  further  enforced  to  his  mind  by  the  reflection,  that 
the  audience  could  only  carry  away,  what  they  retained  in  their  me- 
mories ; — what  they  lost  in  the  recitation  was  not  likely  to  be  recalled 
by  books  ;  for  these  were  few  and  scarce,  and  the  Athenians  were,  as 
we  have  already  observed,  a  seeing  and  hearing,  but  not  a  reading  pub- 
lic. For  these  and  a  few  other  remarks  the  penetration  of  the  reader 
may  be  trusted.  In  this  place  also,  were  it  necessary,  we  might  enter 
at  some  length  into  the  state  of  parties,  which  in  some  shape  or  other 
always  divided  Athens.  A  war  party  and  a  peace  party — a  party  which 
favoured  aristocratical,  and  a  party  which  in  like  manner  leaned  to  de- 
mocratical  principles,  are  terms  which  we  easily  understand ;  and  we 
can  guess,  by  the  influence  they  have  upon  ourselves,  what  would  be 
their  effects  upon  the  fiery,  disputatious,  and  idle  citizens  of  Athens. 
To  their  literary*  parties,  however,  and  more  particularly  to  that  war 
of  opinion,  Avhich  existed  between  the  philosophers  and  the  writers  for 
the  comic  stage,  we  have  nothing  analogous ;  but  it  was  as  keen,  as 
bitter,  and  as  unremitting  as  any  opposition  of  politics  between  the 
Whig  and  Tory  of  this  country :  even  the  subordinate  animosities  be- 
tween the  comedian  and  the  fluteplayer,  who  was  employed  to  regulate 
the  steps  of  the  choral  movements,  give  occasion  to  remarks  in  the 
plays  of  Aristophanes,  (who  certainly  did  not  want  for  the  esprit  de 
corps)  which  to  this  day  are  highly  amusing.  Now  though  nobody 
questions  the  general  sincerity  of  those  who  advocate  Whig  and  Tory 
principles  among  ourselves,  yet  we  believe  the  warmest  arguers  on 
either  side  would  not  always  like  to  be  taken  to  the  letter  in  the  opinions 
of  each  other,  which  the  heat  of  argument  sometimes  elicits :  strong 
expressions  on  one  side  are  and  must  be  met  by  strong  expressions  on 
the  other ;  opinion  must  be  combated  by  opinion,  and  the  public  are 
the  real  gainers  by  the  warmth  of  the  controversy — they  form  silently 
their  judgment  from  the  conflicting  parties,  and  often  set  right  those 
who  are  ostensibly  their  preceptors.     And  in  free  states  it  is  right  that 

therefore  every  reader  may,  with  a  safe  conscience,  relish  the  wit  and  farcical 
humour  of  the  "  Clouds,"  without  making  himself  uneasy  in  ascribing  malevo- 
lent motives  to  the  author  of  the  piece.  See  his  Versuch  iiber  die  Frage :  ob 
und  wie  fern  Aristofanes,  etc. 

*  Their  extreme  violence  may  be  best  judged  of,  by  referring  to  some  of  the 
literary  contests  of  Italy.  The  separate  pretensions  of  Tassoni  and  Biacciolini 
to  the  invention  of  the  comic  Epopeia,  were  almost  contested  at  the  sword's 
point.  The  Ariostisti  and  Tassisti  form  two  warm  factions  even  at  this  day. — 
LUterature  du  Midi,  t.  ii. 


PRELIMINARY   DISCOURSE.  .  61 

all  this  should  be  so.  The  atmosphere  which  we  breathe  is  purged 
and  cleansed  in  the  same  manner :  the  explosion  takes  place  above,  and 
the  quiet  fields  below  are  only  made  sensible  of  the  storm  by  the  show- 
ers which  are  elicited  from  the  concussion,  and  which  fall  to  gladden, 
to  fatten,  and  to  fertilize.  In  this  sense,  Socrates,  as  a  philosopher, 
was  fair  game  for  Aristophanes,  as  a  comedian  ;  and  the  good  sense  of 
the  former  (perhaps  the  most  predominant  feature  in  his  wonderful 
mind)  would  lead  him  to  be  the  first  to  laugh  at  the  absurdity,  and 
would  teach  him  that  in  a  free  slate  it  was  better  that  many  things 
should  evaporate  in  a  laugh  than  in  a  more  serious  way.  Many  other 
points  might  here  be  insisted  upon,  and  particularly  such  as  would  tend 
to  remove  those  prejudices,  which  lead  readers  to  suppose,  that  Socrates 
was,  at  the  time  of  the  exhibition  of  the  Clouds,  the  same  important 
personage  to  his  contemporaries,  which  his  doctrines  and  his  death  have 
since  made  him  to  posterity ;  and  that  therefore  any  attack  upon  him 
must  have  been  the  efiect  of  envy  and  malevolence.  Independently  of 
the  privileged  license  of  a  poet,  whose  opinions  are  always  considered 
with  a  certain  degree  of  indulgence,  it  would  be  easy  to  prove,  from 
the  long  note  attached  to  the  translated  parabasis  in  the  Knights,  that 
Socrates,  an  obscure  philosopher  just  commencing  his  career,  could  be 
no  great  object  of  envy  to  Aristophanes,  already  high  in  fame,  and 
shining  in  a  branch  of  that  particular  profession*  where  it  was  so  pecu- 
liarly the  object  of  ambition  in  Athens  to  excel.  The  relationships  of 
rank — those  relations  which  all  are  so  ready  to  deny  as  influencing 
their  conduct,  but  which,  in  fact,  operate  so  strongly  (and  with  good 
reason)  upon  all — might  here  also  be  mentioned  with  effect ;  and  it 
would  be  no  difficult  matter  to  show,  that  though  a  mistaken  contempt 
might  thus  be  generated,  there  would  be  small  grounds  for  supposing  a 
decided  malevolence,  in  a  man  of  rank  and  property,  to  the  son  of  Phae- 
naret  the  midwife,  who  valued  his  house  with  all  its  contents  at  five 
minae.  Even  the  opposition  of  personal  character,  as  well  as  of  pro- 
fession, between  the  philosopher  and  the  poet; — the  one  gay,  jovial, 
lighthearted,  and  a  man  of  the  world ;  the  other  serious,  thoughtful, 
and  contemplative  ;  witty  perhaps,  but  from  the  vivacity  which  lies  in 
the  intellect,  and  not  that  more  sociable  one  which  lies  in  the  tempera- 
ment, might  not  have  been  undeserving  of  remark,  and  still  more  might 
we  insist  upon  the  circumstance,  that  the  personal!  appearance  of  So- 

*  The  possession  of  talents  for  the  drama  were,  according  to  Plato,  the  surest 
road  to  honour  and  promotion  in  Athens,  as  military  endowments  were  in 
Sparta. 

\  The  enthusiastic  admiration,  which  the  character  of  Socrates  has  justly 
excited,  has  led  some  men  to  question  the  fact  of  his  deformity,  and  even  to 
assert  the  very  contrary.  Epictetus,  among  the  ancients,  originated,  I  beheve, 
this  opinion ;  and  it  appears  from  Brucker,  that  there  have  been  some  modern 
writers,  hardy  enough  to  follow  his  steps,  in  spite  of  the  express  testimonies  of 


62  PRELIMINARV  DISCOURSE. 

crates  (which  was  described  more  at  length  than  persons  of  good  taste 
might  think  warrantable,  on  purpose  to  give  effect  to  this  remark)  was 
a  consideraiion  to  a  poet,  part  of  whose  entertainment  consisted  in  the 
ridiculousness*  of  his  masks,  and  who  in  giving  the  masks  of  Prodicus 
or  Hippias,  would  have  given  what  tbe  greater  part  of  the  spectators 
would  neither  have  knowledge  of,  nor  relish  for: — but  it  is  time  to 
hasten  to  remarks  of  a  more  important  tendency,  and  these  will  be  dis- 
cussed as  freely,  but  as  candidly  as  every  other  part  of  the  subject. 

The  name  of  Socrates  is  known  to  most  readers  only,  by  the  page  of 
history,  where  nothing  appears  in  its  undress  ;  and  even  in  persons 
tolerably  conversant  with  the  learned  languages,  the  knowledge  of  this 
singular  man  is  often  confined  to  that  beautiful  little  work  of  Xenophon, 
which  indeed  deserves  the  classical  appellation  of  "  golden,"  and  to 
that  immortal  Trilogyt  of  Plato,  which  has  been  embalmed  by  the  tearsf 
of  all  ages.  When  we  read  the  admirable  system  of  ethics  (some  few 
blots  excepted)  which  is  laid  open  in  the  former,  and  the  simple  nar- 
rations which  conduct  the  author  of  them  to  the  close  of  his  mortal 
career  in  the  latter,  it  is  not  simply  a  burst  of  admiration,  or  grief,  or 
horrour,  which  breaks  from  us,  but  a  union  of  all  three,  so  profound,  and 
so  involved,  that  the  mind  must  be  strong  indeed,  which  can  prevent 
the  feelings,  for  a  time,  from  mastering  the  judgment.  Few  readers,  it 
is  believed,  even  make  the  attempt :  the  prison  scene  is  an  agony  of 
suffering,  to  which  the  mind  gives  way  that  it  may  not  be  torn  by  op- 
posing it;  Socrates  drinking  the  poison  shocks  the  imagination — we 
feel,  such  is  the  merit  of  the  sufferer,  or  such  the  consummate§  skill  of 

Plato  and  Xenophon  to  the  contrary.  Epicteti  vestigiis  insistunt  celeberrimi 
viri  I.  A.  Fabricius  et  C.  H.  Heumannus,  qui  de  forma  Socratis  non  deformi  et 
fceda  quemadmodum  vulgo  traditur,  docte  commentatus  est,  putatque  ex  male 
intellecto  Zopyri,  insulsi  hotninls  et  ab  Alcibiade  derisi,  judlcio,  et  ex  confuse 
Cratete,  deformi  specie  noto,  cum  Socrate,  fabulam  fuisse  natam.  De  Schola 
Socratica.  Brucker,  v.  i.  p.  542. 

*  A  ridiculous  face  was,  according  to  Aristotle,  a  legitimate  point  of  attack 
in  comedy,  and  fell  precisely  under  the  Greek  definition  of  the  yiKom. 

f  The  works  of  Plato  are  usually  divided  into  tetralogues ;  and  considering 
their  dramatic  nature,  the  idea  of  thus  dividing  them  is  not  an  unhappy  one.  In 
this  manner  the  Euthypron  is  generally  coupled  with  the  apologia,  the  Criton, 
and  the  Phaedon,  but  I  think,  not  very  fortunately.  The  Euthypron  has  in  it 
the  fault,  which  may  be  ascribed  to  so  many  of  the  dialogues  of  Plato ;  it  refutes 
and  removes  opinions  quite  sufficient  for  the  good  conduct  of  ordinary  life,  and 
substitutes  nothing  better  in  their  place. 

X  One  of  the  greatest,  wisest,  and  best  men  of  antiquity,  and  whose  little  infir- 
mities only  made  him  the  more  amiable,  confesses  that  he  never  read  the  Phaedon 
without  an  agony  of  tears.  Quid  dicam  de  Socrate  ?  cujus  morti  tVlachrymare 
soleo  Platonem  legens. — Clc.  de  Nat.  Deor.  lib.  viii. 

§  The  following  remark,  by  a  most  discerning  judge  of  conduct,  deserves  in- 
sertion here. ,  "The  magnanimity  of  Socrates  surely  deserves  admiration ;  yet 


PRELIMINARY   DISCOURSE.  63  ' 

his  biographer,  as  if  a  sin  had  been  committed  against  human  nature — 
we  think  for  a  moment  that  a  chasm  has  been  left  in  society  which  can 
never  again  be  filled  up,  and  we  feel  as  if  we  could  stop  nature  herself 
in  her  course,  to  protest  against  a  transaction,  the  guilt  of  which  seems 
to  belong  to  all  ages.  It  is  an  invidious  task  to  interrupt  the  current  of 
such  feelings,  even  if  there  be  any  thing  illegitimate  in  their  source  : 
fortunately  for  the  honour  of  our  species  these  feelings  are  mostly  right 
in  their  application,  and  what  deductions  are  made  can  be  supplied  from 
higher  sources  ;  we  should  spurn  ourselves  if  we  otherwise  attempted 
to  do  them  away.  What  these  deductions  are  must  now  be  explained, 
and  the  writer  of  this  discourse  feels  assured,  that  the  minds  and  the 
authorities  of  persons  infinitely  more  learned  than  himself,  will  go  with 
him  in  the  explanation. 

Two  books  have  been  referred  to,  (forming  but  a  small  portion  of 
the  Chartae  Socraticx,  or  those  writings  by  which  the  manners,  life 
and  doctrines  of  Socrates  may  be  made  familiar  to  us)  as  including 
almost  all  that  is  known  of  this  extraordinary  man  by  the  generality  of 
readers.  These  books  form  part  of  the  system  of  education  in  most  of 
our  great  schools  :  they  are  read  at  an  age,  when  the  feelings  are  warm, 
the  impressions  vivid  and  lively,  and  when  the  pride  of  learning  is 
beginning  to  operate  very  strongly.  This  course  of  study  necessarily 
brings  two  names  into  contact,  which  are  often  afterwards  connected 
merely  for  the  purpose  of  making  dangerous  and  unworthy  comparisons. 
Youthful  and  inquisitive  minds  see  that  system  of  ethics,  which  they 
are  told,  more  particularly,  forms  the  internal  evidence  for  the  divine 
authority  of  the  Scriptures,  in  some  measure  laid  open  by  the  hand  of 
Xenophon ;  they  see  the  immortality  of  the  soul  intimated  in  the  dia- 
logues of  Plato,  and  did  their  researches  extend  farther  into  the  Socratic 
philosophy,  they  might  see  dark  suggestions  of  many  of  the  other  great 
Scriptural  doctrines — the  nature  of  moral  evil,  the  originally  happy  state 
of  man,  the  deluge,  the  doctrine  of  free  will,  and  a  future  state  of  re- 
wards and  punishments.  The  much  greater  doctrines  of  Repentance 
and  the  Atonement  they  do  not  see  displayed  ;  but  neither  the  voices 
of  their  own  conscience  nor  a  commerce  with  the  world,  have  taught 
them  the  truly  divine  hand  manifested  in  the  former,  and  the  incomplete 
development  of  their  faculties  renders  them  utterly  incapable  of  duly 
estimating  the  latter.  We  know  that  we  speak  from  higher  authority 
than  our  own,  when  we  say  that  the  consequences  of  these  early  im- 
pressions are  often  fatal ;  that  men  are  thus  made  half-wise  in  human 

it  is  not  that  in  which  he  most  outshone  other  men.  The  circumstances  of 
Lord  Russell's  fate  were  far  more  trying.  Socrates,  we  may  easily  suppose, 
would  have  borne  Lord  Russell's  trial ;  but  with  Bishop  Burnet  for  his  eulogist, 
instead  of  Plato  and  Xenophon,  he  would  not  have  had  his  present  splendid 
fame."  Mit.  Hist,  of  Greece,  y.  p.  155. 


64  PRELIMINARY   DISCOURSE. 

learning  and  utterly  ignorant  in  that  better  wisdom,  which  makes  wise 
unto  salvation.  A  deeper  research  into  the  writings  of  the  Socratic 
school  might  lead  them  to  appreciate  somewhat  better  that  profound 
maxim,  which  does  so  much  honour  to  the  most  thoughtful  and  philo- 
sophic people  in  Europe,  that  there  is  no  philosophy  so  deep  as  the 
philosophy  of  Christianity:  but  time,  opportunity,  and  it  may  be  added, 
a  more  competent  share  of  scholarship  than  sometimes  falls  to  the  lot 
of  such  persons,  are  necessary  to  the  task  ;  and  the  consequence  is,  that 
they  are  left  a  prey  to  doubts  and  disquietudes,  from  which  even  the 
consciousness  of  an  upright  and  unblemished  life  does  not  at  all  times 
remove  the  sting. 

We  have  for  this  reason  felt  less  compunction  than  we  should  other- 
wise have  done  in  removing  any  prop  to  virtue,  however  misplaced,  by 
displaying  some  proofs  in  the  preceding  part  of  these  remarks,  that  the 
character  of  Socrates  was  a  little  more  open  to  remark,  than  some  ad- 
mirers in  their  ignorance  are  aware  of,  and  more  than  some  in  their 
knowledge,  are  willing  to  bring  into  notice.     Learned  and  ijnpartial 
men,  well  acquainted  with  the  subject,  will  do  the   present  writer  the 
justice  to  say,  that  some  points  are  not  pressed  so  closely  as  they  might 
have  been,  and  that  had  he  not  confined  himself  to  the  two  authors, 
from  whom  he  has  very  rarely  deviated,  his  remarks  might  have  been 
conveyed  in  a  higher  tone  of  censure.     His  object,  however,  has  been, 
not  to  depreciate  Socrates,  but  to  do  justice  to  a  man,  whose  motives 
have  been  much  mistaken,  and  whose  character,  in  consequence,  has 
been  unduly  depreciated.     In  pursuing  our  remarks  upon  Xenophon 
and  Plato,  the  two  highest  and  most  genuine  authorities  to  which  we 
can  apply  for  the  character  of  Socrates,  a  little  more  may  turn  up  for 
the  justification  of  Aristophanes. 

Dates  and  periods  make  no  great  figure  in  literary  discussions ;  but 
they  are  often  of  the  utmost  importance  in  settling  the  real  truth  of 
things.  Our  opinions  of  Socrates  are  derived  entirely  from  the  writings 
of  Xenophon,  Plato  and  Aristophanes ;  and  we  believe  many  readers 
class  all  these  persons  in  their  minds  as  immediate  contemporaries, 
and  perhaps,  from  a  passage  in  Plato's  Banquet,  as  living  in  habits  of 
society  together.  This  was  so  far  from  being  the  case,  that  the  two 
great  biographers  of  Socrates  were  actually  children  in  the  nursery,  at 
the  time  the  Clouds  were  brought  upon  the  stage ;  the  future  master  of 
the  Academy  being  then  but  six  years  old,  and  Xenophon  within  a  year 
of  the  same  age.  Had  these  difficulties  rested  only  on  the  testimony 
of  such  a  man  as  Diogenes  Laertius,  whose  sins  of  forgetfulness  are 
almost  proverbial,  they  need  not  have  demanded  much  investigation ; 
but  when  we  find  the  mistake  originating  with  a  writer  in  general  so 
accurateas  Strabo,  it  becomes  us  to  state  the  grounds  of  our  dissent  from 
them.  In  the  battle  of  Delium,  which  took  place  one  year  before  the 
representation  of  the  Clouds,  Socrates  is  represented  by  both  these 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  66 

Writers  as  saving  the  life  of  Xenophon,  during  the  retreat  which  follow- 
ed that  celebrated  engagement.  No  one  acquainted  with  chronology 
will  hesitate  to  say,  that  this  is  a  ridiculous  fiction.  The  first  important 
event  in  the  very  eventful  life  of  Xenophon  was  his  joining  the  expe- 
dition of  Cyrus,  a  prince  certainly  not  without  errours,  but  whose  cha- 
racter, like  that  of  many  of  the  other  Persian  princes  and  nobles,  con- 
trasts very  favourably  with  the  rude  republicans,  with  whom  they  were 
brought  so  much  into  contact.  This  expedition  is  settled  by  chronolo- 
gists  as  taking  place  just  twentyone  years  after  the  battle  of  Delium ; 
and  Xenophon,  who  has  left  us  so  matchless  an  account  of  that  inte- 
resting expedition,  calls  himself  at  the  time  a  young  man,  and  gives  us 
to  understand  that  his  close  pursuit  of  philosophy,  coupled  with  his 
early  years,  excited  the  mirth  of  his  fellow  soldiers,  till  circumstances 
taught  them  to  appreciate  the  practical  effects  which  often  result  from 
such  theoretical  pursuits.  The  English  historian  of  Greece,  who  to 
the  utmost  boldness  and  originality  of  opinion,  unites  the  greatest 
patience  and  minuteness  of  research,  settles  the  age  of  Xenophon  at  the 
time  of  his  first  connection  with  Cyrus  at  six  or  seven  and  twenty. 
What  Socrates,  therefore,  really  was  at  the  time  of  the  representation  of 
the  Clouds,  and  how  far  the  poet  was  justified  in  his  attack,  neither  of 
the  two  persons,  from  whom  alone  any  autlientic  accounts  respecting  him 
have  come  down  to  us,  could  possibly  tell :  their  intercourse  with  their 
great  master  must  have  commenced  long  after  the  period  in  question, 
and  apparently  the  whole  of  Xenophon's  work,  and,  no  doubt,  many  of 
the  dialogues  of  Plato  were  written  at  a  time,*  when  for  their  own 
personal  safety  it  became  them  to  communicate  rather  what  they  wished 
to  be  made  known  respecting  their  great  leader,  than  what  they  could 
make  known.  These  writers,  besides,  difier  considerably  in  their  ac- 
counts of  their  master:  in  some  points  they  are  almost  diametrically 
opposite  to  each  other,  in  others  they  evidently  write  at  each  other ; 
and  perhaps  the  same  remark  may  have  struck  the  reader,  which  has 
often  occurred  to  the  present  writer,  that  as  the  most  excellent  of  Xeno- 
phon's compositions  is  that  which  he  derives  entirel}  from  Socrates, 
so  the  most  noble  and  the  most  perfect  workf  of  Plato  is  that  into 

*  The  death  of  Socrates  was  a  signal  for  Plato  and  other  philosophers  to  leave 
Athens.  They  retired,  says  Herinodorus,  to  Eucleid  at  Megara,  "  fearing  the 
cruelty  of  the  tyrants,"  i.  e.  the  mob  of  Athens.  The  accounts  of  the  speedy 
remorse  of  the  Athenians  for  the  atrocity  they  had  committed  seem  to  deserve 
very  little  credit.  Vid.  Le  Jeune  Anach.  l.  v.  558.  Mitford  Hist,  of  Greece, 
vi.  p.  407. 

j-  His  work  on  Legislation.  As  exclusive  praise  is  worth  but  little,  it  will  be 
proper  to  except  the  encomiums  on  drunkenness,  contained  in  the  first  book,  the 
community  of  goods  enforced  in  the  fifth  book,  the  subjection  of  women  to 
public  meals  and  gymnastic  exercises,  and  some  absurdities  on  the  subject  of 
marriage,  and  the  evident  tendency  to  Manicheean  principles  in  the  tenth.  With 

9 


66  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

which  even  the  name  of  Socrates  does  not  enter.  Now  when  an  enemy 
and  a  friend  give  something  like  the  same  account  of  a  person ;  and 
especially  when  the  favouring  parly  has  had  previously  a  warning  voice 
to  caution  him  as  to  the  line  he  might  take  in  his  delineation,  a  strong 
presumption  arises,  that  the  joint  opinion  of  two  such  persons  comes 
nearer  the  truth,  than  that  of  a  single  individual,  however  respectable 
in  character,  or  gifted  with  talent.  Now  it  may  confidently  be  affirmed 
that  the  single  fact  of  Socrates  receiving  pay  for  his  instructions  ex- 
cepted, (the  great  charge  of  making  the  worse  appear  the  better  cause, 
has  been  already  disposed  of,)  the  mysticism,  the  garrulity,  the  hair- 
splitting* niceties  of  language,  the  contempt  for  exteriour  appearance, 

these  exceptions,  this  work  may  perhaps  be  termed  the  most  noble  of  all  that 
antiquity  has  left  us.  If  the  irnKatot  Aoyot  to  which  Plato  so  continually  refers 
in  it  were  nothing  more  nor  less  than  accounts  received,  in  his  travels,  from  the 
Egyptian  priests,  and  derived  by  them,  through  the  two  Hermae,  from  the  Old 
Testament,  the  wonder  excited  by  its  excellence  will  soon  cease.  There  is 
something  so  sublime  in  the  language,  and  so  nearly  prophetic  in  the  application 
of  the  following  passage,  that  though  not  immediately  to  the  present  subject, 
the  reader,  I  think,  will  not  object  to  its  insertion.  It  is  an  address  to  the  ima- 
ginary persons,  for  whom  the  writer  is  legislating — "  Citizens,  we  will  say  to 
them,  God,  according  to  an  old  tradition,  (that  God,  in  whose  hands  are  the 
beginning,  the  end  and  the  middle  of  all  things,)  finishes  in  a  right  line,  con- 
formably to  his  nature,  even  when  his  motions  appear  to  be  circuitous.  Behind 
him  follows  Justice,  the  punisher  of  all  aberrations  from  the  divine  law.  He 
that  would  be  happy,  lays  hold  upon  her,  and  follows,  clothed  in  the  garment 
of  humility;  but  he  that  is  elated  by  pride,  or  finds  cause  of  exaltation  in  his 
riches,  his  honours  or  his  personal  beauty;  he  that  in  the  union  of  youth  and 
madness,  has  his  soul  fired  by  insolence,  as  if  he  required  neither  ruler,  nor 
guide,  but  was  himself  competent  to  guide  others  ;  that  person  is  abandoned  by 
God  and  left  to  himself.  Thus  abandoned,  this  person  joins  to  him  others  as 
wicked  as  himself,  and  in  the  wantonness  of  his  exultation,  he  overturns  and 
confounds  everything.  And  to  the  many  and  the  vulgar  for  a  time  he  appears 
to  be  somebody :  but  vengeance  after  a  time  comes  upon  him  :  and  subjected  to 
a  punishment,  which  none  can  blame,  the  end  of  that  man  is,  that  he  consigns 
to  utter  destruction,  himself,  his  family  and  his  country."  De  Leg.  1.  iv.  p. 
600  G. 

*  An  example  taken  almost  at  hazard  from  a  dialogue,  where  perhaps  Kant, 
and  certainly  Locke,  might  have  found  a  great  part  of  their  theories  ready  traced 
for  them,  will  fully  justify  this  expression.  The  philosopher  is  explaining 
various  cases,  where  a  false  opinion  is  impossible ;  and  if  Aristophanes  had 
been  one  of  the  auditors,  it  is  conceived,  that  he  would  have  found  more  than 
one  passage  in  the  dialogue,  where  it  would  have  puzzled  him  to  draw  the  line 
between  the  philosopher  and  the  sophist.  Socrates  leaving  just  supposed  a 
large  sensorium  of  wax  to  be  in  everybody's  brain,  produces  a  variety  of  cases 
of  impossible  false  opinion,  by  reasoning  as  follows. 

"That  which  any  one  knows,  and  has  a  remembrance  of  in  the  soul,  but 
whi^h  he  does  not  feel;  it  is  impossible  that  he  should  mistake  this  for  some- 
thing else  which  he  knows,  and  of  which  he  has  also  the  impress,  but  not  the 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  67 

the  *melancholy  temperament,  the  strong  addiction  to  tphysical  pursuits, 
the  belief  in  a  supernatural  agency,  to  an  extent  not  precisely  recognized 
by  the  religion  of  his  country,  every  single  trait  of  the  Aristophanic 

sensation.  Again,  that  what  he  knows,  is  another  thing  which  he  does  not 
know,  nor  has  the  impress  of:  or,  that  what  he  does  not  know,  is  another  thing 
which  he  also  does  not  know;  or  that  what  he  does  not  know,  is  another  thing 
which  he  does  know,  as  also  that  what  he  feels,  is  another  thing  which  he  also 
feels  ;  or  that  what  he  feels,  is  some  other  thing  which  he  does  not  feel ;  or  that 
what  he  does  not  feel,  is  some  other  thing,  which  he  does  not  feel,  or  what  he 
does  not  feel  is  some  other  of  the  things  which  he  does  feel,  on  all  these  it  is 
impossible  to  entertain  a  false  opinion.  Again,  of  the  things,  which  a  man  both 
knows  and  A^els,  having  the  impress  of  sensation,  that  a  man  should  think  any 
one  of  these  some  other  ihing  which  he  feels  and  knows,  having  the  signof  tliat 
also  by  sensation,  is,  if  possible,  still  more  impossible  than  those  former  things. 
It  is  equally  impossible  that  what  a  person  knows  and  feels,  and  keeps  a  type 
of  in  the  niemory,  should  be  imagined  by  him  to  be  some  other  thing  which  he 
knows;  or  again  that  what  he  knows  and  feels,  and  preserves  a  remembrance 
of,  is  another  thing  which  he  feels;  or  that  what  he  neither  knows  nor  feels,  is 
another  thing  which  he  does  not  know ;  or  that  what  he  does  not  know  nor  feel 
is  another  thing  which  he  does  not  feel." — In  all  these  and  many  more  such 
cases,  the  philosopher  pronounces  it  to  be  utterly  impossible  that  a  man  should 
think  wrong.  If  the  reader  have  patience  to  read  this  passage  through,  or  to 
cast  his  eyes  over  the  Lysis,  the  Cratylus,  the  Philebus,  or  the  Parmenides 
of  Plato,  (dialogues  in  which  it  is  sometimes  difficult  to  separate  the  burlesque 
from  the  serious.)  he  will,  I  think,  come  to  the  conclusion,  that  the  scenes  in 
the  Clouds,  representing  the  boltingtub  and  the  cock  and  hen  pullet,  etc.,  absurd 
as  they  may  appear  to  us,  were  derived  from  actual  conversations  of  Socrates, 
twisted  perhaps  a  little  from  their  original  purport,  and  reported  by  some  friend, 
who  in  such  a  gossipping  town  as  Athens,  might  know  what  Aristophanes 
wanted  in  his  hero  for  the  Clouds. 

*  The  melancholy  temperament  of  Socrates  has  been  noticed  by  Aristotle ; 
that  Aristophanes  considered  him  as  a  man  eaten  up,  with  what  Goethe  some- 
where calls  the  "  kribscrabs  von  imagination,"  may  be  seen  from  the  nickname 
the  poet  applies  to  his  house.  An  explanation  of  the  Socratic  fhiiontistehium 
is  given  in  a  note  attached  to  the  translation  of  the  Clouds. 

t  Had  there  been  no  other  confirmation  of  this  trait  in  the  Aristophanic 
Socrates,  than  the  little  parenthetical  concessions,  so  cautiously  admitted  by 
Xenophon  in  his  Memorabilia,  (p.  3G1,  3.  3G'3,  5.)  and  the  remarks  on  natural 
causes  made  by  Socrates  in  his  Banquet  (p.  8G.)  I  should  feel  that  this  was 
quite  sufficient  for  establishing  the  fact.  In  Plato's  Phaedon,  however,  (p.  392, 
G.  H.  etc.)  the  fact  is  admitted  at  great  length,  that  Socrates  in  his  younger 
days  had  been  vehemently  addicted  to  physical  inquiries;  and  indeed  on  com- 
paring the  whole  of  the  admissions  by  his  two  bioorraphers,  it  seems  no  unfair 
inference  to  assert,  that  the  intellect  of  Socrates,  like  that  of  An;ixagoras,  had, 
at  one  time,  very  nearly  sunk  under  the  intensity  of  his  researciies  into  these 
dangerous  speculations.  It  is  singular,  and  shows  how  cautious  we  ought  to 
be  in  our  judgments  formed  from  the  writings  of  antiquity,  that  what  Socrates 
in  the  Phaedon  so  unreservedly  admits,  in  the  Apologia  he,  with  as  little  reser" 
ration,  denies. 


68  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

Socrates  may  be  traced  in  the  Platonic,  and  in  some  cases  with  aggra- 
vating circumstances,  which,  if  the  poet  had  been  ill  disposed  towards 
the  piiilosopher,  or  had  even  had  any  more  personal  knowledge  of  him, 
than  what  necessarily  happened  in  a  town,  not  of  very  considerable 
population,  and  whose  customs  and  manners  brought  all  persons  more 
into  contact  than  the  habits  of  modern  society  do,  would  certainly  not 
have  been  suppressed  in  a  picture,  supposed  to  be  drawn  from  wilful 
perversion  and  malevolent  misrepresentation.  What  are  we  to  conclude 
from  all  this  ?  The  fair  inference  seems  to  be,  that  the  Clouds  was  not 
written  for  the  purpose  of  exposing  Socrates,  but  that  Socrates  was 
selected  (and  for  reasons  previously  mentioned)  for  the  purpose  of  giving 
more  effect  to  the  Clouds,  as  an  ingenious  satire  directed  against  the 
sophists  and  the  pernicious  system  of  public  education  at  Athens :  so 
far  from  its  being  a  wilful  misrepresentation,  dictated  by  envy  or  jea- 
lousy, it  seems  very  probable,  that  the  parties  were  very  little  known 
to  each  other ;  that  the  character  of  Socrates  made  much  that  sort  of 
impression  on  the  poet,  which  it  was  designed  the  preceding  portrait  of 
him  should  make  upon  the  reader;  and  finally  it  is  affirmed,  that  it  is  a 
much  more  difficult  problem  to  solve,  why  Aristophanes  should  be  sin- 
gularly right  in  his  representation  of  others,  and  singularly  wrong  in  his 
representation  of  Socrates ;  than  it  is  to  take  the  plain  case,  that  the 
poet  drew  the  philosopher,  such  as  he  knew  him  at  the  time  to  be, 
(which  is  not  improbable,)  or  such,  as  he  judged  him,  from  a  very  im- 
perfect knowledge,  to  be,  which  appears  to  be  more  than  probable.  If 
the  reader  concur  with  the  present  writer,  he  will  go  one  step  farther ; 
so  far  from  blaming  the  poet  for  the  course  he  pursued  in  consequence 
of  his  real  or  mistaken  knowledge,  he  will  think  him  entitled  to  the 
gratitude  of  posterity  for  the  assumption  and  the  execution  of  the  task. 
We  are  all  fond  of  the  expression  that  Socrates  brought  down  philoso- 
phy from  the  clouds  (and  certainly  till  his  time  the  clouds  had  been  her 
principal  residence)  to  live  among  men.  If  the  poet  found  him  on  his 
journey  for  that  purpose,  he  was  not  to  know  the  nature  of  the  philoso- 
pher's errand,  and  the  wholesome  reproof,  that  was  dealt  him  on  the  oc- 
casion, (for  our  virtues  and  our  vices,  our  merits  and  our  demerits  are 
often  the  children  of  circumstances,)  had  perhaps  the  power  of  direct- 
ing his  mind  to  better  pursuits.  We  conclude  therefore,  with  saying, 
that  as  we  possibly  owe  to  the  severity  of  a  Review  the  poet  of  our  own 
days,  who  has  left  all  his  contemporaries  behind  him,  and  made  the 
proudest  of  his  predecessors,  in  all  ages  and  countries,  tremble  for  their 
supremacy;  so  we  owe  to  the  ridicule  of  the  Old  Comedy  the  philosopher, 
whose  name  (with  certain  deductions)  no  man  mentions  without  feeling 
himself  exalted  for  a  time  in  the  scale  of  creation. 

The  idle  story  of  iElian,  that  Socrates  was  put  to  death  in  conse- 
quence of  the  representation  of  the  Clouds,  (two  events  between  which, 
it  is  almost  needless  to  observe,  an  interval  of  more  than  twenty  years 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  --  tJ? 

occurred,)  has  been  refuted  with  too  much  spirit  by  Mr  Cumberland, 
in  the  Observer,  to  require  any  further  notice ;  the  apparent  support* 
given  to  such  an  opinion  by  Plato,  being  easily  accounted  for.  But  if 
this  idle  notion  about  the  immediate  cause  of  the  death  of  Socrates  orig- 
inated with  iElian,  it  must  also  be  remembered,  that  thisf  amusing  but 
credulous  writer,  has,  in  the  exercise  of  his  vocation, 

"Compiler,  compiler,  compiler," — 

evidently  struck  upon  the  true  cause  of  Socrates'  death  ;  namely,  his  politi- 
cal opinions.  "Socrates,"  says  iElian,  "disliked  the  Athenian  consti- 
tution, as  he  saw  that  democracy  has  in  it  all  the  evils  of  tyranny  and 
absolute  monarchy."  With  that  natural  good  sense,  which  lay  at  the 
bottom  of  all  the  real  or  pretended  inequalities  of  Socrates,  this  extraor- 
dinary man  seems  to  have  determined  within  himself,  that  the  vocation 
to  which  he  had  devoted  himself,  (and  a  more  high  and  lofty  one  has 
seldom  been  conceived,)  should  not  be  disturbed  by  tlie  officious  inter- 
position and  misguided  zeal  of  such  an  imperious  and  ignorant  rabble 
as  the  mass  of  the  Athenian  people  were.  In  his  religious  practices, 
therefore,  he  at  least  made  every  decent  sacrifice  to  the  opinions  of  his 
country;  and  his  political  opinions,  a  still  more  delicate  point  in  the  sus- 
picious and  irritable  town  of  Athens,  he  seems  to  have  kept  as  closely  as 
possible  to  himself.  It  was  with  a  view  to  the  latter  object,  as  he  him- 
self plainly  intimates  in  his  defence,  that  he  had  abstained  from  the  Gen- 
eral Assemblies  ;  wishing  neither  to  give  offence  by  declaring  his  senti- 
ments, nor  to  compromise  his  character  (a  character  not  less  marked  by 
inflexible  integrity,  than  the  most  determined  courage)  by  withholding 
them.  The  same  good  sense  appears  to  have  determined  him  in  re- 
fraining from  being  initiated  in  the  Mysteries,  the  only  part  of  the 

*In  Apologia,  359.  Plato,  of  course,  is  not  guilty  of  the  same  chronological 
errour  as  j^-^lian.  He  merely  makes  his  Socrates  observe  to  the  dicasts,  that  the 
accusations  then  advanced  against  him  by  Melitus  were  the  same  as  those  which 
in  their  younger  days,  they  had  seen  brought  forward  against  him  by  Aristo- 
phanes on  the  stage.  Vexation,  at  the  inconvenience  occasioned  to  the  Socratic 
school  by  the  death  of  their  master, — literary  jealousy,  proverbially  inherent  in 
Plato,  and  evidently  not  least  directed  against  Aristophanes, — and  perhaps  re- 
venge for  an  attack,  much  more  light  and  goodhumoured  than  the  offence  war- 
ranted, (see  Ecclesiazusae  of  Aristophanes,  and  the  note  on  the  fifth  book  of  his 
Republic,)  assisted,  no  doubt,  in  provoking  this  attack  upon  the  comic  poet. 

f  Rabelais,  a  man  of  too  much  imagination  not  to  be  delighted  with  a  gossip- 
ing book  of  legends  and  prodigies,  like  iKlian's  Varia  Historia;  and  a  man  of 
too  much  sense  not  to  despise  the  narrator  of  them,  among  other  rubs  gives  him 
the  following  in  his  description  of  the  land  of  Satin  :  Si  croyez  ceux  qui  disent 
le  oontraire,  vous  en  trouverez  mal,  voire  fust  ce  Elian  fiercekt  de  menitrie  ,■ — 
*'j1<]lian,  that  long-bow  man,"  as  the  English  translator  renders  it,  "who  lies  as 
fast  as  a  dogr  can  trot." 


70  FRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

Greek  worship,  as  a  writer  observes,  who  brings  the  most  profound 
erudition  to  whatever  opinion  he  chooses  to  advocate,  which  seems  to 
have  possessed  any  energy,  and  the  ricHcule  or  violation  of  which  alone 
seems  to  have  been  visited  with  any  severe  vengeance.     But  however 
cautious  Socrates  might  be  of  touching  upon  these  points  in  public,  the 
same  caution  was  ill  observed  perhaps  in  private ;  and  the  writings  of 
Xenophon  and  Plato  (for  in  this  point  there  is  no  discrepancy  between 
them)  prove  that  the  ridicule  of  Socrates  against  the  constitution  of  his 
country  was  not  pointed  merely  at  its  mode  of  choosing  its  magistrates 
by  the  fortuitous  direction  of  pebbles  or  beans.     This  discourse  would 
exceed  all  bounds,  if  it  detailed  one  half  of  the  bitter  invectives  against 
democracy,  with  which  the  writings  of  these  two  most  distinguished 
scholars  of  Socrates  are  filled.    Besides  more  direct  attacks,  Plato  evin- 
ces his  contempt  at  all  times  for  the  constitutions  of  his  own  country, 
by  deriving  almost  all  the  regulations  of  his  Utopian  states  from  the 
maxims  of  her  bitter  enemy,  the  Lacedaemonians.     Even  that  regard, 
which  a  painter  and  an  author,  like  Plato,  might  be  expected  to  enter- 
tain for  a  mode  of  government,  proverbially  affording  the  greatest  varie- 
ty of  characters,  and  consequently  multiplying  his  materials  of  occupa- 
tion, even  this  has  little  influence  in  mitigating  that  contempt  for  demo- 
cracy, which  the  master  of  the  Academy  everywhere  expresses ; — he 
adverts  indeed  to  the  advantage,  (in  Rep.  lib.  viii.)  but  it  is  to   treat  it 
with  derision,  and  to  compare  it  with  that  predilection,  which  leads  wo- 
men and  children  to  select  the  robes  that  have  most  variety  of  colours 
in  them.     Xenophon,  living  more  out  of  the  reach  of  the  tyranny  of 
the  Athenian  mob,  observes  still  less  limits  in  his  expressions  of  indig- 
nation :  and  whatever  of  the  clearsightedness  and  personal   virtue  can 
give  effect  to  the  expression  of  opinions,  both  will  be  found  contributing 
to  give  influence  to  the  declarations  of  this  excellent  man  ;   the  soldier- 
philosopher-author,  as  the  English  historian  of  Greece,  by  a  bold  com- 
bination, enthusiastically  calls  him.    He  talks  bitterly  of  the  numbers  of 
his  fellow  countrymen,  who,  "  not  worth  a  drachma,  were  ready  to 
sell  their  country,  with  all  in  it,  that  they  might  have  a  drachma :"  he 
inveighs  with  the  most  emphatic   indignation   against  that  imperious 
"  crowd  of  fullers,  shoemakers,  carpenters,  braziers,  husbandmen,  and 
dealers,"  who  composed  the  general  assemblies  in  Athens,  and  "  whose 
great  object  in  life,"  he  says,  "  was  to  buy  cheap,  and  to  sell   dear:" 
he  intimates  that  all  the  world  through,  democracy  and  virtue  are  ever 
at  variance ;  and  he  concludes  one  of  those  bitterly  contemptuous  chap- 
ters against  the  Athenian  constitution,  which,  by  their  decided  variation 
with  the  general  equability  of  his  style,  show  how  warmly  he  felt  on 
the  subject,  with  words,  which  have  been  quoted  in  another  part  of  this 
volume,  and  which  would  not  have  been  uttered  with  impunity  within 
the  walls  of  Athens : — "  That  the  populace  should  be  partial  to  a  demo- 
cracy, I  can  easily  excuse ;  for  it  is  pardonable  that  every  person  should 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  71 

try  to  benefit  himself;  but  if  any  one,  not  immediately  in  the  rank  of 
the  people,  prefer  living  in  a  democratical  rather  than  in  an  *oligarchi- 
cal  government,  that  man  is  a  villain  by  anticipation,  and  acts  upon  the 
consciousness,  that  it  is  easier  for  a  scoundrel  to  escape  detection  in  a 
state  where  the  government  is  in  the  hands  of  many,  than  it  is  in  a 
state  where  the  government  is  in  the  hands  of  a  few." 

What  Plato  and  Xenophon  expressed  in  their  writings,  Alcibiades 
and  Critias,  the  two  most  conspicuous  disciples  of  Socrates,  evinced 
still  more  decidedly  by  their  actions.  Never  had  democracy  two  such 
clever,  active,  and  insatiable  foes  ;  and  when  we  read  in  the  articles  of 
accusation  against  the  son  of  Sophroniscus,  that  he  corrupted  the  young 
men  of  Athens,  we  have  only  to  open  the  writings  of  Xenophon,  and  to 
reflect  upon  the  conduct  of  Crilias  and  Alcibiades,  to  know  what  that 
charge  was  meant  to  convey.  So  mighty,  however,  is  truth,  that  even 
with  the  awkward  fact  of  great  disasters  brouglit  upon  the  common- 
wealth by  two  men,  the  formation  of  whose  characters,  or  of  one  at 
least,  was  ascribed  wholly  to  Socrates,  all  the  charges  against  him  were 
easily  refuted:  a  strong  murmur,  indeed,  of  disapprobation  attended  the 
annunciation,  that  this  object  of  popular  resentment  acted  under  the  im- 
mediate impulse  and  guidance  of  a  particular  divinity ;  but  even  this, 
new  as  it  might  be,  and  countenancing,  as  it  strongly  did,  the  opinions 
advanced,  that  the  defendant  rejected  the  popular  theology,  even  this 
was  heard  rather  with  a  feeling  of  envy  at  his  enjoying  a  greater  ad- 
vantage than  his  judges,  than  with  a  doubt  of  its  truth.  What,  then,  was 
wanting  to  the  full  acquittal  of  Socrates?  Nothing  but  that  which  he 
disdained  to  give:  a  shew  of  submission  to  the  dicasis  who  tried  him, 
a  little  supplication  to  that  crowd  of  fullers,  carpenters  and  braziers, 
who  composed  the  courtsj  of  law,  as  they  also  formed  the  ecclesise  or 

*  By  an  oligarchy,  Xenophon  most  probably  meant  his  favourite  government, 
the  Lacedaemonian ;  which  the  Athenian  writers  seem  to  have  called  an  oligar- 
chy, a  monarchy  or  a  democracy,  according  as  the  executive  power  seemed  to 
them  most  virtually  to  reside  in  the  senate  (jepovTSf,)  the  two  kings,  or  the  ephori. 
Arist.  in  Politicis,  1.  ii.  c.  7. 

■j"  The  judicial  system  of  Athens  will  come  more  properly  under  consideration 
in  our  author's  comedy  of  the  Wasps ;  but  a  note  or  two  on  the  subject  will  be 
necessary  to  give  effect  to  the  present  argument. 

Nearly  onelhird  of  the  population  of  Athens  were,  in  part,  supported  by  their 
attendance  upon  tlie  courts  of  law  in  the  quality  of  dicasts,  an  office  something 
between  the  judge  and  juryman  of  modern  times.  In  the  constitution  of  these 
judicial  tribunals,  from  which  there  was  no  appeal,  and  which  were  not  account- 
able for  their  decisions,  Aristotle  considers  the  whole  power  of  the  Athenian 
democracy  to  consist;  and  from  them  he  derives  that  disposition  to  tyranny 
which,  in  conformity  with  Plato,  Xenoplion,  and  Aristophanes,  he  ascribes  to 
his  countrymen.  In  Polit.  lib.  ii.  c.  12.  If  Socrates  was  tried  in  the  court  of 
Heliaea,  which,  in  spite  of  the  dogmatical  assertion  of  de  Pauw  to  the  contrary, 
rests  upon  most  respectable  authority,  six  thousand  dicasts  might  have  sat  in 


72  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

legislative  assemblies.  The  accounts  of  Plato  and  Xenophon  are  too 
decisive  on  this  point  to  admit  of  any  doubt;  the  charge  of  impiety,  it 
is  clear,  would  have  been  abandoned,  and  the  gods  left  to  avenge  their 
own  cause,  had  Thearion  the  baker,  and  Simon  the  currier,  and  Theo- 
phrastus  the  maker  of  lyres  and  the  rest  of  the  dicasts  stood  uncurtailed 
of  their  usual  allowance  of  submission,*  tears,  supplication  and  prostra- 

judgment  upon  him.  That  there  was  a  very  full  attendance  on  the  occasion,  we 
have  Plato's  express  testimony.  A  very  large  portion  of  the  population  of 
Athens  thus  becomes  involved  in  the  guilt  of  the  murder  of  Socrates :  and  if 
cities  suffer  for  crimes  as  well  as  individuals,  (an  opinion  not  unknown  to  the 
ancients.  Isocrates  in  Orat.  de  Pace,  381.)  there  is  nothing  ridiculous  surely  in 
ascribing  the  subsequent  and  still  continuing  degradation  of  Greece,  to  the  di- 
vine vengeance  which  marked  that  unholy  deed. 

*  This  trait  in  the  character  of  the  Athenian  dicast  is  painted,  with  much  hu- 
mour, in  the  play  just  referred  to;  the  weakest,  according  to  W.  Schlegel,  of  all 
the  writings  of  Aristophanes,  and  which,  after  the  reception  of  his  play  of  the 
preceding  year,  could  not  be  expected  to  be  the  strongest.  In  fact,  after  the  re- 
jection of  the  Clouds,  a  visible  alteration  takes  place  in  the  Aristophanic  come- 
dies :  the  author,  as  if  hopeless  of  effecting  his  better  purpose,  almost  abandons 
the  office  of  serious  instruction,  and  many  of  his  plays  are  mere  jeux  d'esprit ; 
giving,  certainly,  a  high  idea  of  the  wit  and  humour  of  an  Athenian  mob,  but 
never  commanding  that  regard,  and  even  respect,  which  the  lower  orders  of  so- 
ciety in  our  own  and  other  countries  so  often  command.  As  the  character  of 
common  Athenians  is  not  treated  with  any  great  lenity  in  the  course  of  this  work, 
it  is  but  fair  that  they  should  have  all  the  benefit  of  the  good  humour,  with 
which  they  allowed  their  failings  to  be  reproved  in  their  own  days.  This  can- 
not be  better  done  than  by  two  or  three  extracts  from  the  play  just  mentioned. 
The  best  scene  in  it  is  where  a  father  and  son  consider  the  merits  and  demerits 
of  the  judicial  system  of  Athens;  thefather  being  a  tough  dicast  of  the  old  school, 
the  son  an  improved  gentlemen  of  the  later  day. 

Father.     At  your  word,  offi  go,  and  at  starting  Pll  show, 

convincing  the  stiffest  opinion ; 
That  regalia  and  throne,  sceptre,  kingdom  and  crown 

are  but  dirt  to  judicial  dominion. 
First  in  pleasure  and  glee,  who  abound  more  than  we; 

who  with  luxury  nearer  are  wedded  1 
Then  for  panic  and  frights,  the  world  through  none  excites, 

what  your  dicast  does,  e'en  tho'  grayheaded. 
Soon  as  ever  I  creep  from  my  bed  and  break  sleep, 

through  the  courts  runs  a  warning  sensation ; 
There  the  mighty — the  sly — men  of  four  cubits  high, 

wait  my  coming  in  hot  trepidation. 
First  a  hand  soft  as  wool — entre  nous,  lately  full 

from  the  public  exchequer  and  treasure, 
Fast  upon  me  is  laid ;  and  my  knees  captive  made, 

supplications  pour  in  without  measure— 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  73 

tions.  The  soul  of  Socrates — that  Socrates,  who,  with  every  qualifi- 
cation requisite  to  carry  him  to  the  highest  dignities  of  state,  remained, 
for  the  sake  of  higher  employments,  nobly  poor,  disdained  the  compro- 

"  Father — neighbour  and  friend — help  and  mercy  extend — 

mayhap  when  in  ofiice  and  station. 
Or  when  serving  the  mess,  you  took  care  to  f.rpress, 

in  private,  a  small  compensation." 
Knave  and  hang-dog !  my  care,  from  a  swing  in  the  air, 

sav'd  his  heels  on  a  former  occasion. 
Or  the  rogue,  and  be  curst!  had  not  known — 

Son,  {writing  on  his  fallcts.)  Item  first: — 

suit  .  .  .  petition  .  .  .  and  warm  supplication. 
Father.     Loaded  large  thus  with  prayer,  in  the  court  I  take  chair, 

from  my  brow  wrath  and  choler  clean  clearing ; 
As  for  promises  made  out  of  doors  of  my  aid — 

with  the  four  winds  of  heaven  their  veering. 
Then  a  thousand  tones  drop,  all  attun'd  to  one  stop — 

mercy — pardon — release — liberation; 
Of  the  whole  race  of  men,  like  a  dicast  who  then 

receives  compliment,  court,  adoration  1 
His  pawns  and  his  pledges  one  defendant  alleges; 

and  his  poverty's  ills  all  detailing, 
The  items  are  thrown  with  such  skill,  that  my  own 

in  the  balance  to  nothing  are  failing. 
With  mythical  tales  one  my  fancy  regales, 

t'other  dips  into  jEsop  and  fable; 
While  a  third  slily  throws  out  his  squibs  and  bon-mots, 

my  passion  and  wrath  to  disable. 
Turn  I  still  a  deaf  ear  1  better  suitors  are  near : — 

led  by  hand  and  in  court  quick  appearing. 
The  accus'd  to  his  aid  calls  his  imps — boy  and  maid ; — 

I  bend  gracious  and  deign  them  a  hearing. 
With  bent  heads  ...  in  tones  sweet  .  .  .  pretty  lambkins  !  they  bleat: — 

the  father,  submissively  falling, 
Does  me  suit,  as  a  god,  for  he  knows,  at  my  nod, 

his  accounts  pass  without  overhauling. 
(miWcs,)  "  If  the  tones  of  a  lamb  sooth  your  ear,  sure  I  am, 

that  this  boy's,  my  lord,  will  not  be  hateful ; 
If  beauty  more  warms — sir,  this  girl  hath  her  charms, 

and  sure  she  would  not  be  ungrateful." 
Downward  straight  goes  my  ire,  like  the  tones  of  a  lyre, 

when  the  pins  and  the  pegs  are  unscrewing : — 
(turning  to  his  Son)     Speak,  explain,  what  dost  say,  call  you  this  rule 
and  sway, 

when  the  rich  to  your  scoffs  are  thus  suing  1 — In  Vespis,  548. 

The  author's  opinion  on  the  regulations,  which  made  the  dicasteria  courts  of 
appeal  in  the  last  instance,  and  exempted  the  members  of  them,  on  all  occasions, 
10 


74  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

raise.  It  was  not  of  such  persons  that  he  chose  to  supplicate  permis- 
sion to  add  a  few  more  years  to  a  life  already  far  enough  advanced  to 
make  it  a  matter  of  choice  rather  than  of  repugnance,  to  lay  down  the 
burden :  he  openly  avowed  the  determination,  and  he  boldly  paid  the 
penalty. — But  the  guilt  of  his  death  lay  not  the  less  on  those  who  caused 
it :  on  that  populace,  with  whom  democracy,  as  the  honest  Isocrates 
observes,  was  only  another  name  for  intemperance,  as  liberty  was  for 
lawlessness  :  with  whom  equality  of  laws  O^rovo/xw;  implied  the  right 
of  saying  what  they  pleased ;  on  that  populace,  whose  singular  consti- 
tution gave  them  some  of  the  advantages,  and  all  the  insolence  of  wealth, 
without  its  responsibility,  and  which  subjected  them  to  the  real  ills  of 

from  the  euthyne,  it  is  of  more  importance  to  state,  than  this  description  of  the 
triumphant  chucklings  of  a  dicast  over  the  official  terrors  of  his  situation. 

Father.     Crowded  house,  warm  debate,  mark  some  pris'ner  of  state : — 

doubts  ensue — hesitation — adjournment : 
To  prevent  further  stir.  Lords  and  Commons  refer 

the  case  to  judicial  discernment. 
Then  some  pleader  stands  forth,  and  that  scoundrel,  whose  worth 

show  his  synonyms,  "fawner" — "shield-dropper" — 
And  their  note  is  the  same,  "  While  /  live,"  both  exclaim, 

"  the  Commons  have  no  interloper." 
But  the  votes  most  he  wins  there,  his  speech  who  begins, 

"Mr  Speaker,  I  move  with  submission. 
After  one  single  turn,  that  the  courts  all  adjourn, 

nor  labour  a  second  decision." 
Even  he  whose  voice  stills  thunder,  hammers  and  mills, 

Cleon,  dares  not  devour,  jeer,  or  scoff  us. 
But  with  flyflap  in  hand,  taking  humbly  his  stand, 

beats  and  brushes  the  vermin  clean  off  us. — In  iisdem,  590. 

Among  other  instances  of  roguery,  practised  under  cover  of  this  judicial  ex- 
emption from  the  account,  to  which  all  other  official  situations  were  subjected, 
the  following  may  be  selected,  as  most  easy  to  be  appreciated  by  modern  feelings. 

Some  father  is  gone  dead,  defunct — well  anon? 

leaves  a  girl,  good  ; — an  heiress,  much  better; — 
The  old  put  would  confer  a  bedfellow  on  her, 

and  his  Will  leaves  him  drawn  to  the  letter. 
Lords  of  locks,  seals,  and  keys,  straight  the  parchments  we  seize, 

while  a  codicil  neatly  appended 
Cheats  the  wary  and  wise,  and  the  girl's  made  a  prize 

to  some  youngster  who  's  better  befriended. 
And  the  deed  boldly  done,  further  mark  me,  there's  none 

dare  report  or  inquiry  request  on't; 
"While  another  thus  doing,  there'd  be  forthwith  ensuing 

Board,  Commission,  Report,  and  the  rest  on't. — In  iisdem.  583'. 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  75 

poverty,  without  enforcing  its  peculiar  virtues.  To  that  populace — in 
whom  an  English  mob  might  witness  much  of  their  own  easy  credu- 
lity, without  their  unsuspecting  honesty ;  and  in  whom  France  might 
trace  her  frivolity  without  her  good  breeding,  and  her  fair  exteriour  with 
more  than  her  innate  corruption: — to  that  populace,  and  not  to  the  le- 
gitimate ridicule  of  a  Dionysian  festival,  must  be  ascribed  the  death  of 
Socrates.  It  was  but  one  crime  more  thrown  into  a  cup  already  over- 
flowing with  guilt;  and  they  who  had  but  just  seen  a  reverse  of  fortune 
pass  Over  without  its  fulness  of  expected  retribution — when  for  remem- 
brance of  national  guilt  and  deserved  punishment  no  eye  in  Athens 
slept — these  persons  probably  thought,  that  it  woidd  not  add  much  to 
the  horrours  of  such  another  night,  when  to  many  a  former  bloody  tra- 
gedy— the  deaths  of  Paches  and  Milliades, — tlie  fate  of  *Hestiaca, — the 
hard  lot  of  Scione, — the  cruel  fortunes  of  Torone,  Melos,  and  iEgina, 
should  be  added  the  murder  of  an  old  man,  whom  a  Delpliicf  oracle  pro- 
nounced to  be  the  wisest,  and  two  afiectionate  and  devoted  pupils  de- 
clared to  be  the  best  and  must  virtuous  of  men. 

It  is  felt  that  these  remarks  ought  now  to  close,  and  that  any  further 
observations  may,  perhaps,  have  the  effect  of  weakening  the  preceding 
arguments.  But  he,  who  has  been  lingering  over  the  delightful  pages 
of  Xenophon  and  Plato,  willingly  deceives  himself  by  supposing,  that 
a  few  remarks  on  the  personal  history  of  the  two  great  biographers  of 
Socrates,  the  friend  of  Agcsilaus  and  Cyrus,  and  tlie  master  of  the  Aca- 
demy, may  yet  be  allowed  Iiim,  and  that  in  perusing  them,  the  relations 
between  their  great  master  and  the  comic  poet  may  be  still  further  elu- 
cidated. Early  in  life,  Xenophon  had  been  thrown  into  those  situations, 
which  make  a  man  think  and  act  for  himself;  which  teach  him  practi- 
cally how  much  more  important  it  is,  that  there  should  be  fixed  princi- 
ples of  right  and  wrong  in  the  minds  of  men  in  general,  than  that  there 
should  be  a  knowledge  of  letters  or  a  feeling  of  their  elegance  in  the 
minds  of  a  icw.     The  writer,  who  has  thrown  equal  interest  into  the 

♦  Thucydidos,  1.  i.  114.  ii.  27.  iv.  57.  v.  11(5.  Tlie  bitter  recriminations  made 
by  Isocrates,  in  his  speech  called  the  Panegyrical  upon  the  Spartan  decemviri, 
form  no  justification  of  the  atrocities  committed  by  his  own  countrymen,  and 
only  add  to  the  horrour  and  disgust  which  Grecian  history  is  too  often  calculated 
to  inspire. 

j"  To  the  deductions  made  in  this  discourse  on  the  subject  of  Socrates' virtue, 
must  also  be  added  some  deductions  as  to  the  authenticity  of  this  celebrated 
oracle.  Van  Dale,  in  his  celebrated  treatise  de  Oraculis  (Dissert.  Secunda,  p. 
195.)  considers  it  as  a  sheer  imposition.  A  much  stronger  argument  than  either 
Van  Dale,  or  Athenaeus  has  urged,  seems  to  lie  in  the  character  of  the  original 
promulgator  of  it;  the  shatter-brain  Chaerephon,  in  Avhom  a  sort  of  crazy  de- 
votion to  Socrates  appears  to  have  swallowed  up  the  nearer  affections,  which 
ought  to  have  belonged  to  him.  Lucian,  (and  the  utmost  confidence  may  be 
placed  in  the  tact  of  that  most  shrewd  observer)  appears,  by  a  little  parenthetical 
expression,  to  have  thought  on  this  subject  nearly  as  the  present  writer  does. 


76  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

account  of  a  retreating  army,  and  the  description  of  a  scene  of  coursing ; 
who  has  described  with  the  same  fidelity  a  common  groom,  and  a  per- 
fect pattern  of  conjugal  fidelity,  such  a  man  had  seen  life  under  aspects, 
which  taught  him  to  know  that  there  were  things  of  infinitely  more  im- 
portance than  the  turn  of  a  phrase,  the  music  of  a  cadence,  and  the  other 
niceties,  which  are  wanted  by  a  luxurious  and  opulent  metropolis. — He 
did  not  write,  like  his  fellow-disciple,  for  the  suppers  and  the  symposiac 
meetings  of  Athens — he  had  no  eye,  like  Plato,  to  the  jokers  by  pro- 
fession (rsxaiTOToicj)   whose  business  it  wasto  despatch  books  and  authors 
between  the  courses,  and  to  fill  up  those  intervals,  when  guests  look 
round  to  see  who  is  guilty  of  the  last  pause  in  conversation — his  Socra- 
tes was  not  to  be  exhibited,  as  we  believe  the  real  Socrates  often  exhibit- 
ed himself,  a  sort  of  "  bon  enfant,"  a  boon  companion  for  the  petits 
maitres   of  the  Ilyssus  ;    who  sought  to  win,    by  dropping  even  the 
decent  gravity  of  a  preceptor,  and  who  endeavoured  to  reclaim  by  affect- 
ing a  show  of  what  in  his  heart  he  must  have  loathed  and  detested.  Es- 
tranged from  his  own  country,  at  first  by  choice,  and  very  soon  after- 
wards by  necessity,  Xenophon  became,  almost  before  the  age  of  man- 
hood, a  citizen  of  the  world ;  and  the  virtuous  feelings,  which  were  ne- 
cessary in  a  mind  constituted  as  his  was,  let  loose  from  the  channels  of 
mere  patriotism,  took  into  their  comprehensive  bosom  the  welfare  of 
the  world.     Life,  which  had  commenced  with  him  in  a  manner  singu- 
larly active  and  romantically  perilous,  was  very  soon  exchanged  for 
that  quiet  solitude,  which  either  finds  men  good  or  makes  them  such. 
In  his   delightful  retirement  at  Scillus,*  amid  those  enchanting  rural 
scenes,  where  a  bad  man  finds  himself  an  anomaly  in  the  beautiful  and 
harmonious  works  of  nature  around  him,  Xenophon  had  ample  leisure 
to  meditate  on  all  that  he  had  seen  or  heard.  The  "  digito  monstrarier," 
that  great  stumblingblock  of  weak  heads,  and  of  those  who  do  not  know 
how  trifling  the  applause  of  the  world  is  to  him  who  appeals  only  to 
his  own  breast  for  the  motives  of  his  actions,  could  not  here  apply  to 
Xenophon :  to  him  the  present  time  was  as  nothing ;  he  lived  only  to 
the  past  and  for  the  future.     In  such  a  situation,  the  lessons  of  morality 
received  from  Socrates  would  rise  up  in  his  mind — how  much  aided  by 
early  intimacy  with  Cyrus,  and  by  the  knowledge  thereby  acquired  of 
the  sentiments  of  chivalry  and  honour,  inherent  in  monarchical  govern- 
ments, and  how  much  improved  by  subsequent  connexion  with  the  most 
virtuous  state  of  Greece,  and  with  Agesilaus,  the  most  distinguished 
man  in  that  state — his  own  beautiful  writings  suiFiciendy  testify.     His 
own  high  talents,  aided  by  such  experience  and  such  connexions,  would 

*It  is  difficult  to  imagine  a  more  rational  or  a  more  delightful  life,  than  a  few 
words  of  Diogenes  Laertius  describe  Xenophon  as  leading  in  that  "loop-hole  of 
retreat :"  Books — study — composition; — the  healthy  sports  of  the  field,  and  the 
enjoyments  of  social  recreation  ; — nothing  seems  wanting  to  the  picture,  which 
our  imaginations  are  accustomed  to  draw  of  an  accomplished  heathen  philosopher. 


PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE.  77 

teach  him  what  to  omit,  and  what  to  press  in  a  work,  not  intended  mere- 
ly for  the  wits  and  savants  of  Athens,  but  meant  to  be  one  of  those 
eternal  possessions,  those  x-THf^uTx  k  ««,  which  great  minds  generate  and 
perfect  in  solitude  and  retirement.  It  is  the  Ethics,  therefore,  of  Socrates, 
that  are  chiefly  unfolded  in  the  admirable  Memorabilia  of  Xenophon; 
and  after  admitting  that  many  of  the  higher  doctrines  of  antiquity  are 
but  negatives*  of  the  Christian  precepts,  he  must  be  dead  to  the  moral 
sense,  who  does  not  feel  a  burst  of  exultation  within  him,  at  seeing  how 
much  even  unassisted  nature  is  able  to  produce.  But  the  intellect,  (and, 
from  the  extraordinary  mimetic  powers  of  the  narrator,  it  may  be  sur- 
mised,) the  manners  of  the  real  Socrates  were  left  to  be  displayed  by  a 

*  How  much  this  is  the  caso  in  the  great  Christian  precept  of"  doing  as  we 
would  be  done  by,"  and  the  maxim  of  antiquity,  which  approaches  nearest  to 
it,  has  been  well  shown  in  Mitford's  History  of  Greece,  (vol.  v.  p.  137.)  A  de- 
duction equally  important  must  be  made  from  the  annunciation  which,  in  lan- 
guage the  most  eloquent,  tells  us  that  it  is  belter  to  suffer  injustice  than  to  com- 
mit it;  that  he,  who  commits  injustice,  increases  his  misery  by  escaping,  and 
not  by  submitting  to  punishment — and  that  the  real  end  and  proper  object  of 
eloquence  is  to  denounce  and  convict  such  as  have  been  criminal,  even  though 
ourselves,  or  our  dearest  connexions  be  involved  in  the  guilt.  The  same  per- 
son, who  delivers  these  admirable  maxims,  declares,  on  the  contrary,  that  we 
ought  to  avenge  ourselves  on  our  enemies  by  endeavouring  to  hinder  them  from 
wiping  off,  by  self-accusation,  the  torments  of  the  conscience.  "  If  our  enemy," 
says  Socrates  in  the  same  dialogue,  "  have  committed  an  injury  against  any  one, 
we  ought  to  take  every  precaution,  both  by  word  and  action,  that  he  may  not 
suffer  for  his  injustice,  nor  be  brought  before  the  dicast.  If  he  do  come  before 
the  judge,  it  is  our  business  to  plot  and  scheme,  that  he  may  escape,  without 
suffering  for  his  delinquency.  Does  his  crime  consist  in  the  robbery  of  much 
gold  ?  it  is  incumbent  on  us  to  try  that  he  be  not  obliged  to  refund ;  on  the  con- 
trary, we  should  endeavour  that  he  may  retain  it,  and  spend  it  upon  himself  and 
his  friends,  unjustly  and  impiously.  If  he  have  committed  crimes  worthy  of 
death,  we  ought  to  take  care  that  his  life  be  spared  ;  we  should  try,  if  possible, 
that  he  may  be  made  to  live  for  ever,  immortal  in  wretchedness  ;  and  if  this  be 
out  of  the  case,  we  should  see  that  he  be  made  to  live  in  this  state  as  long  as  is 
possible."  It  is  surely  necessary  to  contrast  with  such  maxims  the  doctrine, 
which  teaches  us  how  to  treat  even  those  who  curse  us.  One  comparison  more 
might  be  made ;  but  in  such  a  work  as  this,  it  becomes  us  only  to  make  a  dis- 
tant reference  to  the  counterpart.  In  reading  the  Phaedon  of  Plato,  it  must  strike 
every  reader,  I  think,  that  the  parting  scene  between  Socrates  and  his  children 
in  prison  is  but  barely  decent ;  that  the  show  part  of  the  drama  is  brought  for- 
ward with  a  little  precipitation,  and  that  a  little  more  tenderness  on  the  part  of 
the  philosopher  would  have  added  still  more  effect  to  the  magnanimity  with 
which  the  fatal  cup  is  taken  and  drunk.  We  have  no  right  to  expect  that  the 
death  of  Socrates  should  be  perfect.  The  simple  verses,  which  shew  the  best 
affections  of  the  soul,  triumphing  amid  the  severest  and  most  intense  sufferings 
of  body,  arise,  in  our  minds,  without  the  necessity  of  bringing  them  more  imme- 
diately under  the  reader's  eye. 


78  PRELIMINARY    DISCOURSE. 

man,  to  whom,  when  it  is  said  that  Xenophon  can  bear  no  comparison 
in  point  of  genius,  an  inferiority  is  ascribed  to  him,  which  he  shares  in 
common  with  all  mankind  ;  the  Stageirite  alone  excepted,  whose  En- 
telecheia  may  perhaps  be  put  on  a  par  with  the  Erus,  or  inspiration  of 
the  great  master  of  the  academy.  We  leave  him  who  has  not  yielded 
to  the  arguments  here  brought  forward  for  the  justification  of  Aristo- 
phanes, to  have  his  indignation  neutralized  by  the  Dialogues  of  Plato. 
Let  him  peruse  these  and  he  will  see  that  Socrates  might  very  easily 
dismiss  the  Clouds  of  Aristophanes,  as  the  best-natured  of  men  dimiss- 
ed  the  fly,  which  had  buzzed  about  him  and  annoyed  hira  : — "  Go,  lit- 
tle creature,  there  is  room  enough  in  the  world  for  you  and  for  me." 

A  grasp  and  a  capacity  of  mind  the  most  astonishing — a  spirit  inqui- 
sitive and  scrutinizing — a  subtlety  painfully  acute — a  comprehensive- 
ness which  could  embrace  with  equal  ease  the  smallest  and  most  lofty 
knowledge — a  suppleness  which,  with  almost  incredible  facility,  could 
descend  from  the  deepest  abstraction  to  the  commonest  topics  of  the 
world — a  temper  which,  in  the  heat  of  disputation,  could  preserve  the 
most  perfect  self-possession,  and  throw  into  disquisitions,  which  must 
have  been  the  result  of  long  study,  solitude  and  profound  meditation, 
all  the  graces  of  society  and  the  qualifying  embellishments  of  the  most 
perfect  goodbreeding ; — these  are  qualities  which  seem  to  have  been 
inherent  in  the  mind  of  Plato,  and  with  these  he  has  accordingly  en- 
dowed the  person  whom  he  in  general  selected  for  the  organ  of  con- 
veying their  joint  sentiments  to  the  world.  In  this  union  of  opposite 
qualities,  Plato  may  be  said  to  resemble  the  Homeric  chain  of  gold:  if 
one  end  rested  on  earth,  the  other  had  its  termination  in  heaven. 

A  residence  in  courts  (and  the  court  of  the  Dionysii  seems  to  have 
been  no  ordinary  one)  adds  to  his  attractions  some  of  those  charms  so 
rarely  to  be  found  in  republican  writers:  that  tone  of  good  society,  which 
sifts  without  exhausting,  and  plays  upon  the  surface  as  if  to  take  breath 
from  having  sounded  the  bottom; — that  correctness  of  observation  which, 
acting  rather  as  the  annalist  than  the  spy  in  society,  gives  to  raillery  it- 
self the  character  of  wit,  and  to  scandal  a  half  tone  of  biography ; — that 
tact,  rapid  as  light  and  as  unerring  as  instinct,  which,  charitable  as  it 
may  be  to  unassuming  and  natural  manners,  seizes  instantly  upon  pre- 
tension, and  lays  it  bare  with  pitiless  severity ; — that  delicate  intuition, 
which  in  manners,  and  in  authorship  watches  with  jealousy  that  nice 
point,  where  self-condemnation  beginning,  the  commendation  of  others 
is  sure  to  cease  :  all  this  may  be  seen  in  Plato,  and  if  less  perfectly  than 
in  some  modern  writers,  it  was  only  because  that  sex,  in  whose  society 
it  is  best  learnt,  had  not  yet  been  able  to  throw  off  the  shackles  of  de- 
mocratical  tyranny,  or  to  attain  the  accomplishments  of  a  liberal  educa- 
tion, without  forfeiting  wliat  ought  to  be  dearer  to  them  than  any  accom- 
plishments. At  once  a  geometrician  and  a  poet,t  he  understanding  and 
the  fancy  find  in  Plato  a  purveyor  equally  bountiful :  for  the  one  he 


PRELIMINARY  DISCOURSE.  79 

supplies  solid  food,  and  he  captivates  the  other  by  the  most  beautiful 
fables  and  tales.  To  his  treasures  the  east  and  the  south  equally  con- 
tributed ;  he  pours  forth  the  one  in  all  the  pomp  of  oriental  richness 
and  profusion,  with  the  lavish  hand  of  youthful  extravagance  ;  and  his 
intercourse  with  Egypt  enables  him  to  cast  over  his  writings  the  impo- 
sing reserve  of  that  mysterious  eld,  who  has  surrounded  the  impotence 
of  her  old  age  with  a  solemn  reverence,  by  affecting  the  possession  of 
treasures,  of  which  she  mysteriously  withholds  the  key.  To  Plato  the 
past,  the  present,  and  the  future  seem  alike ;  he  has  amassed  in  him- 
self all  the  knowledge  of  the  first ;  he  paints  the  present  to  the  life,  and 
by  some  wonderful  instinct,  he  has  given  dark  hints,  as  if  the  most  im- 
portant events,  which  were  to  happen  after  his  time,  had  not  been  wholly 
hidden  from  his  sight.  Less  scientific  in  the  arrangement  of  his  mate- 
rials than  his  great  scholar  the  Slageirite,  he  has  infinitely  more  variety, 
more  spirit,  more  beauty ;  evincing,  at  every  step,  that  it  was  in  his  own 
choice  to  become  the  most  profound  of  philosophers,  the  most  pointed 
of  satirists,  the  greatest  of  orators,  or  the  most  sublime  of  poets  ;  or,  by 
a  skilful  combination  of  all,  to  form  such  a  character  as  the  world  had 
never  yet  seen,  nor  was  ever  after  to  witness.  Nor  is  the  language  in 
which  his  thoughts  are  conveyed  less  remarkable  than  the  thoughts 
themselves.  In  his  more  elevated  passages,  he  rises,  like  his  own  Pro- 
metheus, to  heaven,  and  brings  down  from  thence  the  noblest  of  all 
thefts — Wisdom  with  Fire:  but,  in  general,  calm,  pure,  and  unaffected, 
his  style  flows  like  a  stream  which  gurgles  its  own  music  as  it  runs  :* 
and  his  works  rise  like  the  great  fabric  of  Grecian  literature,  of  which 
they  are  the  best  model,  in  calm  and  noiseless  majesty,  like  the  palace 
of  Aladdin  rearing  itself  from  an  ethereal  base,  or  like  that  temple,  equal- 
ly gorgeous  and  more  real,  in  which 

"No  workman's  steel,  no  pond'rous  axes  rung; 
Like  some  tall  palm  the  noiseless  fabric  sprung." 

That  Socrates  could  have  so  commanded  the  spirits  of  two  men  so 
gifted  as  Xenophon  and  Plato,  that  they  may  be  said  to  have  devoted 
their  lives  to  the  delineation  of  his  character  and  sentiments,  is  a  proof 
of  ascendancy  which  gives  us  the  most  astonishing  opinion  of  his  pow- 
ers. It  cannot,  however,  be  sufficiently  regretted  that  he  did  not  take 
the  task  upon  himself;  the  most  interesting  book,  perhaps,  that  ever 
could  have  been  written,  would  have  been  that  which  traced  gradually 
and  minutely  the  progress  of  thought  in  the  mind  of  Socrates,  and  through 
what  changes  and  circumstances  he  arrived  at  that  system  of  opinions 
which,  if  they  sometimes  remind  us  of  what  unassisted  nature  must  be, 
more  often  recal  to  us,  "  how  glorious  a  piece  of  work  man  is !  how 
noble  is  reason  1  how  infinite  in  faculties  !  in  apprehension  how  like  a 
god!"    This,  however,  has  not  been  done ;  and  Socrates  must  now  be 


80  PRELIMINARY  DISCOURSE. 

taken  as  we  find  him  :  by  thus  leaving  the  task  to  others,  he  has  per- 
haps gained  something  in  reputation  on  the  score  of  intellect,  but  it  can 
neither  be  concealed  nor  denied,  that  on  the  side  of  manners  and  morals, 
he  has  lost  much  both  in  purity  and  dignity. 

In  offering  these  remarks,  the  writer  is  aware,  that  he  shall  come 
across  many  prejudices  and  prepossessions  ;  but  they  are  the  result  of 
considerable  labour,  and,  he  may  say,  of  anxious  investigation  ;  in 
making  them  he  has  been  conscious  of  no  undue  bias  on  his  own  mind, 
and  he  confidently  trusts  to  the  truth  and  to  the  utility  of  them  for  his 

apology. 

"  Se  lo  voce  sard  molesta 

Nel  primo  gusto,  vital  niitrimento 

Lascera  poi  quando  sara  digesta." 


THE  KNIGHTS: 


THE    DEMAGOGUES.* 


TiiK  Comedy  of  the  Kniglits  carries  vis  two  years  forward  into  that 
most  interesting  period  of  Grecian  history,  the  Pcloponnesian  war.  In 
this  Comedy,  as  in  a  glass,  may  be  seen  the  effects  of  that  fatal  policy, 
pursued  by  Pericles  at  tlie  commencement  of  the  war,  and  to  which  the 
reader's  attention  has  already  more  than  once  been  directed.  Never 
had  corruption  made  more  rapid  progress  in  a  state  than  under  the  in- 
fluence of  that  unfortunate  measure,  which  had  broken  the  simple  habits 
of  rustic  life,  and  converted  the  whole  body  of  Athenians  into  inhabit- 
ants of  a  town.  The  professed  object  of  this  singular  composition  is 
the  overthrow  of  tliat  powerful  demagogue,  whom  the  author  had  pro- 
fessed in  his  Acharnians  (Act  II,)  that  it  was  his  intention  at  some  future 
day  "to  cut  into  shoe-leather;"  and  his  assistants  on  the  occasion  are 
the  very  persons,  for  whose  service  the  exploit  was  to  take  place, — the 
rich  proprietors,  who  among  the  Athenians  constituted  the  class  of  Horse- 
men or  Knights. t 

For  this  purpose  Athens  is  here  represented  as  a  house  :  Demus  (a 
personification  of  the  whole  Athenian  people)  is  the  master  of  it,  Nicias 
and  Demosthenes,  names  too  familiar  to  the  reader  of  history  to  need 
explanation,  are  his  slaves,  and  Cleon  is  his  confidential  servant  and 
slavedriver.  The  levelling  disposition  of  tlie  Athenians  could  not  have 
been  presented  with  a  more  agreeable  picture.  If  the  dramatis  per- 
sonae  are  few,  the  plot  of  the  piece  is  still  more  meagre  ;  it  consists  merely 
of  a  series  of  humiliating  pictures  of  Cleon,  and  a  succession  of  proofs 
to  Demus,  that  this  favourite  servant  is  wholly  unworthy  of  the  trust 

*  The  former  of  tliese  is  the  title  given  in  the  Didascalia;,  and  is  that  by  which 
the  piece  is  most  generally  known;  but  it  was  a  title  very  likely  to  mislead  the 
English  reader,  and  the  first  impressions  of  a  reader  are  those  which  are  least 
easily  eradicated.  The  celebrated  Wieland,  who  has  translated  this  and  other 
plays  of  Aiistophanes  into  his  native  tongue,  and  whose  extensive  erudition  and 
extreme  impartiality  make  him  a  most  invaluable  assistant  to  a  person  engaged 
in  a  similar  labour,  uniformly  calls  it  the  Demao-ogues. 

f  In  the  Athenian  state,  the  Knights  ranked  next  to  those  of  the  highest 
quality  and  fortune.  They  were  not  a  very  numerous  body  ;  consisting  of  such 
only  as  possessed  estates  equal  to  the  furnishing  a  horse  at  the  rider's  own  ex- 
pense; and  this  in  the  rocky  and  barren  country  of  Attica  was  by  no  means  in- 
considerable. 

U 


82  THE  knights; 

and  confidence  reposed  in  him.  The  manners  are  strictly  confined  to 
Athens  and  might  ahuost  be  thought  to  belong  to  a  people,  who  imagined 
■with  the  Indian  that  liis  own  little  valley  comprehended  'the  whole 
world;  and  that  the  sun  rose  on  one  side  of  it,  only  to  set  again  on  the 
other. 

Of  all  the  comedies  of  Aristophanes,  scarcely  one  can  be  said  to  ex- 
ceed the  Knights  in  value  ;  not  so  much  as  a  specimen  of  the  dramatic 
art,  as  an  historical  document,  giving  a  strong,  full,  and  faithful  picture 
of  the  most  singular  people  that  ever  existed.  We  are  here  admitted 
literally  into  the  interior  of  Attica; — into  the  house  of  the  allegorical 
Demus  ;  and  certainly  the  master  of  the  habitation  is  such  as  we 
should  wish  to  contemplate  at  a  very  respectful  distance.  Irritable, 
jealous,  and  suspicious — eaten  up  with  oracles,  and  a  prey  to  the  most 
miserable  superstition — fickle  in  his  feelings,  and  inconstant  in  his 
pursuits — a  greedy  devourer  of  his  own  praises,  and  on  some  occasions, 
it  must  be  confessed,  equally  patient  of  abuse — with  a  curious  mixture 
of  sense  and  imbecility,  of  acuteness  and  blindness,  of  insolence  and 
servility,  if  the  Demus  of  Aristophanes  somtimes  reminds  us  of  the  John 
Bull  of  our  own  country,*  it  is  certainly  only  for  the  purpose  of  making 
us  dwell  with  more  satisfaction  upon  that  representative  of  our  national 
character.  The  eccentric  and  mirthful  muse  of  Aristophanes  throws  a 
gaiety  over  the  most  unpromising  subject;  but,  cruel  and  capricious — 
alternately  tyrants  and  slaves, — at  once  sharpers  and  dupes — devoted 
to  the  lowest  of  their  appetites — gluttonous  and  intemperate — idle  amid 
all  their  activity,  and  sensual  amid  privation  and  poverty,  the  life  of 
the  common  Athenians  cannot  but  fill  us  with  contempt  and  disgust; — 
without  object  and  without  plan,  without  real  activity  or  true  enjoyment, 
it  exliibitsa  picture  at  once  ridiculous,  loathsome,  and  fearful,  and  shews 
the  extreme  corruption  to  which  a  state  may  be  rapidly  conducted  by 
the  united  influence  of  republicanism  and  demagogues. f 

Whatever  may  be  tjiought  of  the  line  of  conduct  by  which  Pericles 
paved  the  way  to  the  possession  of  supreme  power  in  Athens,  and 
Avhatever  diflTerence  of  opinion  may  exist  as  to  the  motives  which  hurried 
him  into  the  Peloponnesian  war,  this  play  affords  sufficient  evidence 
that  he  alone  was  able  to  have  conducted  it  with  honour,  and  that  none 

*  Or  the  Brother  Jonathan  of  ours. 

t  That  a  state,  constituted  as  is  represented  in  this  play,  could  have  existed 
for  a  week,  seems  hardly  possible;  but  Wieland  has  justly  observed,  that  the 
earlier  events  of  the  French  revolution  are  a  convincing  proof  that  the  author 
might  have  written  all  that  he  has,  without  giving  reason  to  imagine  that  he 
has  drawn  merely  a  fancy-picture.  In  that  singular  revolution,  says  the  same 
writer,  the  Demus  of  Aristophanes  became  a  reeil  person,  and  ihe  parts  of  the 
Paphlagonian  and  the  Sausage-vender  were  played  witii  an  easiness  and  sup- 
pleness which  secure  the  comic  writer  from  all  suspicion  of  having  overstepped 
the  boundaries  of  what  is  possible  in  human  nature. 


OR  THE  DEMAGOGUES.  83 

but  lie  could  be  safely  entrusted  with  that  fulness  of  power,  which,  in 
the  hands  of  the  leading  ^minister  of  Athens,  put  at  his  disposal  the 
Athenian  commonwealth  with  all  its  appurtenances,  "  its  revenues,"  as 
the  contemporary  historians  describe  it,  "  its  armies,  fleets,  islands,  the 
sea,  friendships  and  alliances  with  kings  and  various  potentates,  and 
influence  that  commanded  several  Grecian  states,  and  many  barbarous 
nations."  By  the  death  of  this  accomplished  politician,  which  happened 
at  a  time  singularly  unfortunate  for  his  country,  this  ricli  prize  had 
again  become  a  subject  for  competition  ;  and  the  two  parties,  which 
prevailed  more  or  less  in  every  Grecian  city,  and  wliicli  his  all-com- 
manding talents  had  kept  in  repose,  had  already  iilled  Athens  with  all 
those  conflicting  passions  by  which  human  nature  is  agitated.  At  the 
head  of  the  aristocratic  interest  appeared  Nicias,  the  son  of  Niceratus  ; 
a  man  rich,  amiable,  and  generous  ;  with  considerable  talents,  both  mi- 
litary and  political,  but  unequal  to  the  times  and  to  the  particular  peo- 
ple among  whom  he  was  born  ;  while  Democracy,  after  veering  some 
time  between  Lysicles  and  Eucrates,  the  one,  according  to  Aristophanes, 
a  seller  of  tow,  and  the  other  a  dealer  in  cattle,  had  at  last  taken  repose 
by  showering  the  whole  tide  of  her  afl'ections  upon  the  noisy,  turbulent, 
and  worthless  Cleon.  The  son  of  a  tanner,  and  himself  bred  to  the 
trade ;  without  those  generous  feelings  which  seem  inherent  in  high 
birth ;  and  without  that  regard  for  character,  which  it  is  the  purpose  of 
education  to  inspire,  Cleon  possessed  those  corporeal  powers  which,  in 
the  eyes  of  a  mob,  often  supply  the  place  of  both  : — with  a  bulky  body, 
a  voice  potent  even  beyond  the  extreme  extent  of  fvalue  attached  to  such 
a  qualification  among  the  Greeks,  with  a  most  republican  indiflerence 
to  all  exterior  decorations  of  person,  and  a  face  bearing  on  it  the  marks 
of  vulgar  intemperance.  Nature  herself  seems  to  have  formed  Cleon  for 
a  demagogue.  His  interior  qualifications  were  just  what  his  exterior 
promised  ;  he  being,  as  Mr  Mitford  observes,  of  extraordinary  impu- 
dence and  little  courage  ;   as  slack  in  the  field  as  he   was  forward  and 

*  The  ofTico,  wliich  conferred  this  extensive  power,  was  that  of  -ra^/^tc,  or 
the  public  treasurer.  It  was  generally  given  for  a  term  of  five  years  ;  but  if  the 
holder  of  it  conducted  himself  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  people,  he  was  generally 
reinvested  with  it. 

■f"  Among  the  Greeks,  where  civil  hnsiness  was  transacted  before  large  num- 
bers, and  where  in  war  little  was  communicated  hy  signals,  a  loud  voice  was  a 
very  important  endowment.  The  name  of  Stcntor  has  even  grown  into  a  pro- 
verb. The  service  which  Thrasybulus  of  Styra  rendered  to  Alcibiades  by  the 
loudness  of  his  voice  on  a  very  trying  occasion,  is  recorded  by  Plutarch  in  his 
life  of  that  extraordinary  man.  See,  also,  Herod.  1.  iv.  c.  141.  7.  c.  117.  Cleon 
appears  to  have  possessed  lungs  of  astonishing  strength.  Aristophanes  fre- 
quently compares  his  voice  with  tlic  Cycloboras,  one  of  those  torrents  which 
precipitated  themselves  with  an  overpowering  noise  from  the  rocks  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Athens. 


84  THE  KNIGHTS  ; 

noisy  in  the  assembly,  and  as  base  in  practice  as  he  was  corrupt  in 
principle.  That  such  a  man  should  ever  have  stood  in  the  situation  of 
head  of  a  party  seems  to  us  almost  incredible  :  but  he  possessed  one  re- 
deeming qualification  in  an  eminent  degree ;  and  among  a  nation  which 
pardoned  everything  to  the  pleasure  of  indulging  its  ears,*  the  coarse 
but  ready  eloquencef  of  Cleon,  exerted  in  those  ways  which  were  most 
calculated  to  please  an  Athenian  audience — in  boasts  of  his  own  integ- 
rity, and  accusations|  of  all  the  respectable  men  of  rank — this  formed 
a  splendid  addition  to  his  character,  which  threw  into  the  shade  all  his 
other  defects. 

To  qualifications  such  as  these,  the  amiable  diffidence  of  Nicias 
formed  but  a  very  weak  opposition  ;  and  Demosthenes,  with  little  pow- 
ers of  oratory,  and  even  in  his  own  profession  more  fitted  to  act  upon 
the  suggestions  of  others  than  to  devise  anything  original  of  his  own, 
was  ill  calculated  to  supply  the  deficiencies  of  his  colleague.  All  op- 
position, therefore,  in  the  General  Assembly,  to  the  low  and  petulant 
Cleon,  seems  gradually  to  have  declined,  and  graver  men  saw  with  grief 
and  indignation  that  the  ample  power,  which  had  once  been  vested  in 
the  hands  of  a  Miltiades,  a  Themistocles,  an  Aristides,  and  a  Cyraon, 
was  now  concentrating  fast  in  the  worthless  and  ignoble  Cleon.  It  was 
in  this  exigency  that  a  poet  stepped  forward  to  support  their  declining 
cause,  and  to  effect  upon  the  stage  what  had  been  without  avail  atempted 
in  the  assembly.  That  personal  hatred  was  one  of  the  motives  which 
led  to  the  bold  and  dangerous  attempt,  there  can  be  no  doubt;  but  that 
Aristophanes  was  in  the  pay  of  Nicias's  party,  or  that  he  was  instigated 
by  mercenary  views,  as  Wieland  suggests,  there  seems  no  good  ground 
for  affirming.  He  had  evidently  formed  a  high  idea  of  the  profession 
to  which  he  had  given  himself;  he  had  devoted  much  time  and  indus- 
try to  the  developement  of  those  extraodinary  talents  with  which  he  was 
endowed ;  and  the  keen  sensibility,  with  which,  it  is  evident,  amid  all 

*  The  spirit  of  a  man,  says  the  Xerxes  of  Herodotus,  (and  the  strong  con- 
trasts in  that  monarch's  character  seem  to  show  the  people  for  whom  the  his- 
torian had  most  adapted,)  resides  in  his  ears ;  when  he  hears  what  is  agreeable 
to  him,  pleasure  spreads  itself  over  every  part  of  his  body;  when  the  contrary 
happens,  he  is  filled  with  pain  and  exacerbation  of  mind.     Lib.  vii.  c.  39. 

■j-  The  history  of  the  Italian  states  oflFers  proofs  no  less  remarkable  than  the 
Grecian,  of  the  powers  which  eloquence  possesses  over  the  susceptible  minds 
of  the  inhabitants  of  warm  climates.  The  eloquence  of  a  poor  fisherman  (Mas 
Aniello)  could  quell  a  sedition ;  the  oratory  of  an  innkeeper's  son  (Cola  di 
Rienzi)  could  restore  for  a  time  the  fallen  dignities  of  Rome.  The  preaching 
of  a  single  monk  (Jacob  des  Bussolari)  baffled  the  whole  power  of  Milan ;  and 
while  the  plain  of  Paquara  witnessed  twelve  nations  as  the  audience  of  Jean  de 
Vicence ;  John  of  Bohemia,  without  the  power  of  being  able  to  read,  saw  thrones 
and  sceptres  offered  to  him  in  abundance  as  the  reward  of  his  powers  of  per- 
suasion.    Histoire  des  Republiques  Italiennes,  tomes  ii.  v.  vi. 

jf.  See  the  speech  of  Diodotus,  Thuc.  lib.  iii. 


OR  THE  DEMAGOGUES.  85 

his  apparent  thoughtlessness  and  extravagance,  that  he  felt  the  triumph 
of  success  and  the  mortilicatiou  of  failure,  shews  that  to  be  the  first 
comic  poet  of  his  day  was  the  great  and  ruling  object  of  his  ambition. 
Where  a  warm  and  ardent  love  of  fame  is  felt,  the  meaner  passions  are 
seldom  found  to  exist.  That  Aristophanes  reckoned  upon  the  assist- 
ance of  the  aristocratic  party  is  evident  from  his  own  declaration ; 
but  his  best  security,  he  knew,  rested  in  the  display  of  those  talents, 
which  had  already  gained  him  much  attention,  and  which  by  their  ex- 
traordinary mixture  of  elegance  and  coarseness,  of  wit  and  buffoonery, 
of  apparent  simplicity  and  real  acumen,  seemed  peculiarly  adapted  to 
catch  the  tastes  and  fascinate  the  minds  of  his  countrymen.  The  at- 
tack itself,  the  manner  in  which  it  was  conducted,  and  the  consequences 
which  resulted  from  it,  will  all  demand  a  few  words. 

Accustomed  as  we  are  in  England*  to  see  the  most  exalted  charac- 
ters subjected  with  impunity  to  the  lash  of  the  pencil  and  the  press,  it 
may  be  thought  that  the  danger  of  attacking  a  demagogue  like  Cleon, 
especially  when  the  privileged  licence  of  the  Okl  Comedy  is  considered, 
was  by  no  means  very  appalling.  An  incident  mentioned  in  the  piece 
itself  will  shew  that  this  was  far  from  being  the  case.  It  was  the  privi- 
lege of  the  Old  Comedy  to  attack  persons  not  merely  by  their  names, 
but  by  means  of  masks  to  give  an  exact  representation  of  the  person 
satirized.  It  was  thus  that  Lamachus  and  Euripides  had  been  served 
up  to  the  public  ridicule  in  the  comedy  of  the  Acharnians;  it  was  thus 
that  Nicias  and  Demosthenes  were  no  doubt  exhibited  in  the  present 
play ;  and  in  the  same  manner  a  faithful  pourtraiture  was  afterwards  given 
of  the  son  of  Sophroniscus.  In  drawing  the  character  of  Demus,  the 
author  had  already  ventured  upon  what  few  others  would  have  dared  to 
attempt;  for  though  the  sovereign  multitude  encouraged  personal  satire, 
it  was  always  understood  that  their  own  sacred  person  was  to  be  excepted. 
Satire  against  the  people  collectively,  says  Xenophon,t  the  people  do 
not  allow.  What  the  courage  of  Aristophanes,  however,  had  dared  to 
describe,  the  artists  did  not  want  courage  to  pourtray,  nor  the  actors  to 
represent ;  and  a  Demus  was  brought  before  the  audience,  in  such  cos- 
tume, no  doubt,  and  with  such  features  as  the  fruitful  mind  of  the  origi- 
nal creator  of  the  character  might  suggest.  But  though  the  mob  itself, 
it  was  thought,  might  thus  be  treated  with  impunity,  the  idol  of  the  mob 
created  a  more  reverential  terrour.  No  artist  would  venture  to  give  a 
representation  of  Cleon's  face,  and  no  actor  would  expose  himself  to 
the  resentment  of  the  all-powerful  demagogue  by  playing  him  off  be- 
fore that  audience,  who  were  at  once  his  servant  and  his  master.  The 
same  person,  tlierefore,  who  had  delineated  the  character  in  his  closet, 
was  obliged  himself  to   sustain  it  on   the  stage;  and    the   lees  of  wine 

*  And  more  particularly  in  America, 
t  De  Rep.  Athen.  c.  2.  s.  18, 


86  THE  KNIGHTS  ; 

rubbed  upon  his  face  served  to  convey  some  idea  of  the  flushed  and 
bloated  countenance  which  the  maskniaUer  had  not  dared  to  represent. 
The  poet,  in  the  character  of  Cleon,  and  his  dramatic  opponent, 
(through  the  medium  of  whom  the  ricHcule  was  to  be  administered,) 
once  face  to  face  upon  the  stage,  a  combat  of  the  most  extraordinary 
kind  ensued ;  and  those  who  have  been  accustomed  to  hear  of  Athenian 
urbanity  and  politeness  will  recoil  with  astonishment,  perhaps,  from 
scenes,  which  were  received  with  enthusiasm  by  the  countrymen  and 
fellow  citizens  of  Plato,  Xenophon  and  Thucydides.  Whatever  were 
tlie  acuteness,  ingenuity  and  natural  taste  of  an  Athenian  audience, 
(and  that  they  possessed  all  these  in  a  wonderful  degree  cannot  be  doubt- 
ed,) we  want  no  other  evidence  than  this  play  to  prove  that  they  had 
yet  to  learn  that  art,  at  once  so  diflicult  and  so  sublime,  as  an  acute* 
observer  has  termed  it,  by  which  men  are  rendered  mutually  satisfied 
with  each  other  and  with  themselves;  and  that  the  bienseance,  which 
leads  to  the  belief  that  a  man  respects  himself,  and  the  politeness  which 
leads  to  the  belief  that  he  respects  others,  were  qualities  either  unknown 
or  little  practised  among  the  lower  Athenians.  Never  very  scrupulous 
in  his  ideas,  nor  in  the  language  in  which  they  are  clothed,  Aristophanes 
seems  to  consider  an  attack,  upon  Cleon  as  an  apology  for  overstepping 
all  bounds  of  decorum  ;  to  assail  him  was,  in  his  own  words,  to  stir  up 
the  effluvia  of  a  tanyard,  and  by  the  very  act  of  rousing  him  the  whole 
atmosphere  becomes  tainted  and  poisoned.  Cleon  appears  to  have  been 
in  his  imagination  as  the  centre  of  a  circle,  into  which  all  that  society 
exhibits  of  the  mean  and  the  ridiculous,  all  that  folly  contains  of  the 
weak  and  the  imbecile,  and  all  that  vice  displays  of  the  odious  and  dis- 
gusting, was  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  be  drawn.  That  good  hu- 
mour, which,  in  spite  of  the  opposite  opinion  generally  entertain- 
ed of  him,  formed,  I  think,  a  conspicuous  part  of  the  character  of 
Aristophanes,  displays  itself  here  but  rarely ; — he  had  set  his  all 
upon  a  cast,  and  the  danger  he  was  running  evidently  sits  heavy  upon 
his  mind.  His  Chorus,  who  are  generally  to  his  plays  what  the 
female  faces  have  been  observed  to  be  to  the  pieces  of  Hogarth,  a  means 
of  keeping  the  acrimonious  feelings  within  the  limits  of  legitimately 
pleasurable  sensation,  here  assume  a  ferocity  of  character — the  poet  has 
Avritten  their  parts  with  gall,  and  armed  their  hands  with  a  dagger.  The 
German  critics,  whose  feelings  are  as  correct  as  their  learning  is  pro- 
found, have  observed  the  difference  between  the  Knights  «f  Aristophanes 
and  his  other  plays.  It  is  a  struggle  for  life  and  death,  says  Wieland; 
it  is  a  true  dramatic  philippic,  says  Schlegel. 

In  attacking  Cleon  so  continually  upon  the  point  where  he  seemed 
least  assailable,  viz.  the  affair  at  Pylus,  the  poet  has  shown  that  deep 
knowledge  of  the  people  collectively,  which  forms  the  most  consider- 

*  De  Pauw. 


OK  THE  DEMAGOGUKS  87 

able  feature  in  his  literary  character.  He  knew  that  the  exploit  per- 
formed at  Pylus,  however  it  might  command  the  acclamations  of  the 
mob  at  first,  was,  in  fact,  a  line  of  demarcation  between  them  and  their 
favourite.  For  though  with  a  little  examination,  (a  trouble  which  the 
giddy  citizens  of  Athens  were  not  likely  to  give  themselves,)  Cleon's 
share  in  tliis  achievement  would  have  been  found  to  amount  to  nothing, 
yet,  taken  in  a  general  view,  it  conferred  a  sort  of  respectability  upon 
his  character ;  and  respect  is  the  last  feeling  which  the  mob  wish  to  be 
demanded  of  them  by  the  candidate  for  their  favour.  To  be  in  full 
possession  of  their  affections,  he  must  be  as  vile  and  worthless  as  them- 
selves. It  is  for  this  reason  that  Cleon's  achievement  is  so  continually 
served  up  to  the  audience.  Of  two  consequences  one  was  likely  to  re- 
sult. If  no  accession  to  Cleon's  popularity  had  been  gained  by  this 
boasted  exploit,  to  treat  the  exj)loil  itself  with  ridicule  was  one  of  the 
surest  means  of  preventing  an  increase  of  favour  with  the  mob  :  if,  on 
the  contrary,  an  opinion  of  Cleon's  capacity  had  gained  ground,  it  was 
politic  to  nauseate  llie  audience  with  a  continual  recitation  of  the  only 
event  upon  which  any  real  notion  of  his  capacity  could  be  grounded. 
The  peasant,  who  signed  the  vote  for  the  banishment  of  Aristides,  had 
no  other  reason  for  it  but  that  he  was  tired  of  hearing  him  continually 
styled  the  Just. 

The  consequences  which  resulted  from  this  singular  exhibition  may 
be  told  in  a  few  words  ;  but  those  few  words  supply  ample  materials  for 
thought :  the  piece  was  applauded  in  the  most  enthusiastic  manner,  the 
satire  on  the  sovereign  multitude  was  forgiven,  the  poet  was  crowned  with 
the  prize  of  victory,  and — Cleon  remained  in  as  great  favour  as  ever. 
Nothing  can  testify  more  amply  to  Athenian  love  of  wit,  to  Athenian 
penetration;  but  while  much  must  be  conceded  to  the  good  humour 
which  could  so  patiently  endure  the  detail  of  its  faults  :  that  good  hu- 
mour itself  is  a  p.oof  how  fixed  was  tlie  determination  of  the  audience 
to  abide  in  all  the  errours  of  their  national  character :  for  those  who 
laugh  at  the  exposure  of  their  faults  are  least  likely  ever  to  amend  them. 

The  Knights,  even  as  a  drama,  has  always  held  a  very  high  rank, 
and  not  undeservedly.  The  character  of  Demus  is  an  immortal  proof 
of  rich  *invention,  discrimination,  and  acuteness  ;  and  the  sausage-seller 
is  the  very  triumph  of  vulgarity.  That  bold  and  spirited  morality  which 
displays  itself  in  all  the  works  of  Aristophanes,  not  unaccompanied,  it 
must  be  owned,  with  the  most  perverse  depravity,  is  nowhere  more 
conspicuous  than  in  his  Knights.      Where  the  author  is  bad,  he  leaves 

*  After  the  exhibition  of  the  Knights,  an  allegorical  Domus  seems  to  have 
become  a  favourite  subject  with  the  painters  and  sculptors  of  Athens.  (See 
Meursius  de  Peir  c.  4.  Pausan,  1.  i.  c.  3.)  That  of  Parrhasius  was  particu- 
larly distinguished,  as  displaying  in  an  adndrable  manner  the  various  inconsist- 
encies of  the  Athenian  character.     Plin.  lib.  xxxv.  §  3G. 


88  THE  knights; 

all  competition  at  a  distance  ;  but  where  he  is  good,  the  most  delicate 
taste  can  hardly  wish  for  a  finer  banquet.  The  fulness  of  this  enjoy- 
ment, however,  must  be  left  to  those  wlio  can  read  him  in  the  original 
Greek :  to  fight  the  battles  of  the  poet  in  any  other  language  than  liis 
own  is  like  sending  the  steed  of  the  great  Cid  to  battle  with  the  lifeless 
body  of  his  master  upon  his  back  :  if  any  victory  be  gained,  their  success 
must  be  set  down  to  the  credit  of  the  reader's  imagination.  As  a  piece 
of  mere  language,  indeed,  the  Knights  is,  perhaps,  without  parallel ;  the 
figures  in  the  piece  may  be  those  of  Teniers  and  Ostade,  but  the  colour- 
ing in  the  original  has  all  the  richness  of  Reubens.  The  diction  of 
Aristophanes  is  to  his  ideas  what  the  best  accompaniments  of  Mozart 
are  to  his  worst  melodies  ;  it  resembles  the  liberality  of  a  man  whose 
present  of  a  silver  coin  is  wrapped  up  in  a  note  of  many  times  its  value  ; 
like  Algebraic  language,  it  may  be  said  to  be  rather  the  creation  than 
the  conveyance  of  thought.  Even  the  low  terms,  of  which  so  unspar- 
ing a  use  is  made  in  this  comedy,  had  a  charm,  perhaps,  for  Athenian 
ears,  of  which  we  are  not  susceptible.  The  Italians,  who  in  the  pecu- 
liar cast  of  their  gaiety  and  vivacity,  approach  very  nearly  to  the  Athe- 
nians, are  enthusiastically  attached  to  the  low  Florentine  ;  they  find  in 
it  an  expressible  grace,  and  many  of  their  critics  to  this  day  think*  no- 
thing written  with  purity  which  is  not  formed  upon  the  language  of  the 
lower  orders  of  Florence  of  the  fourteenth  century.  It  is  at  once  con- 
solatory and  mortifying  to  the  translator  of  Aristophanes  to  make  these 
observations :  consoling,  because  the  impossibility  of  transplanting  the 
beauties  of  the  original  diminishes  the  temerity  of  attempting  to  con- 
vey an  idea  of  some  of  the  more  common  passages  ;  and  mortifying, 
because  he  feels  the  injustice  done  to  his  author  by  thus  presenting  a 
succession  of  coarse  pictures,  unredeemed  by  that  spirit  and  those  graces 
of  language,  with  which  they  are  clothed  in  the  original ;  but  powerful 
as  the  English  language  is,  it  may  be  doubted  whether  the  strongest 
hand  could  raise  it  to  such  a  height  as  to  meet  the  original  of  the 
Knights. 

An  event  in  Grecian  history,  to  which  allusion  has  already  been  made, 
forms  so  prominent  a  part  in  the  ensuing  comedy,  that  without  some 
explanation  of  it,  the  piece  itself  will  scarcely  be  intelligible  :  a  mere 
outline  must  suffice  here  ;  the  reader  who  wishes  for  more  intelligence 
will  find  his  curiosity  amply  gratified  in  the  pages  of  Mr  Mitford.  A 
squadron  of  the  Athenians,  at  the  instigation  and  under  the  direction  of 

*  The  Malmantile  racquistato  of  Lorenzo  Lippi,  and  the  Torrachione  deso- 
late of  Paolo  Minucci,  (the  former  of  which  has  been  illustrated  by  more  com- 
mentators than  any  Italian  poem  except  the  Divina  Commedia)  are  said  to  owe 
most  of  that  high  celebrity,  which  they  enjoy  among  the  cultivators  of  the  Tus- 
can language,  to  the  great  portion  which  they  contain  of  this  favourite  dialect. 
Sismondi,  Litleralure  du  Midi,  torn.  ii. 


OR  THE  DEMAGOGUES.  89 

Demosthenes,  had  constructed  a  small  fort  at  Pylus,  on  the  Messenian 
coast,  with  a  view  of  securing  a  point  of  attack  upon  the  territories  of 
their  opponents,  the    Lacedaemonians.     The  latter  naturally    became 
alarmed,  and  made  speedy  preparations  for  dispossessing  their  antago- 
nists of  this  advantageous  post.    Many  contests  took  place  between  the 
contending  parlies  to  effect  their  different  purposes.     The  peculiar  na- 
ture of  the  harbour  at  Pylus,  and  the  Island  of  Sphacteria,  which  faced 
it,  seemed,  at  length,  to  put  a  few  hundreds   of  the  Spartans,  who  had 
been  landed  on  the  island,  into  the  power  of  their  enemies  ;    and   it  re- 
quires but  little  acquaintance  with  the  history,  organization,  and  pecu- 
liar institutions  of  that  singular  people,  to  know  that  the  loss  of  a  few 
hundred  Spartans  was  equivalent  to  the  loss  of  a  whole  army.     Alarmed 
at  an  event,  which  was  likely  to  bring  disgrace  on  many  of  their  prin- 
cipal families,  the  heads  of  their  government  made  instant  overtures  to 
the  Athenians  for  peace.     Tlieir  offers  were  rejected   by  the  General 
Assembly  at  the  instigation  of  Cleon  :   but  when  the  prospect  of  suc- 
cess, which  had  been  held  out  at  Pylus,  began  to  wear  a  less  flattering 
aspect,  the  Athenians   became  alarmed  in  their  turn  for  their  own  fort 
and  the  fleet  which  supported  it ;   and  it  seemed  doubtful  whether  the 
party  of  Spartans,   which  a  sanguine  imagination  had   put  into  their 
hands,  might  not  yet  escape  them.     The  sequel  of  the  story  will  be 
best  related  in  the  words  of  the  historian,  to  whom  reference  has   al- 
ready been  made.     "  Public  indignation  was  rising  fast  against  Cleon, 
as  the  evil  counsellor  of  the  commonwealth  and  author  of  the  evils  felt 
or  apprehended.    He  found  it  necessary,  for  obviating  popular  clamour 
and  disgust,  to  exert  himself  in  the  Assembly,  and  in  a   very  extraor- 
dinary train  of  circumstances  that  followed,  his  impudence  and  his  for- 
tune (if  in  the  want  of  another  we  may  use  that  term)  wonderfully  fa- 
voured him.     He  began  by  boldly  insisting  '  that  the  circumstances   of 
their  fleet  and  army  at  Pylus  were  not  so  adverse  as  they  were  reported  ;' 
this  assertion  called  forward  the  officers  who  brought  the  intelligence ; 
they  desired,  that  if  they  were  thought  unworthy  of  belief,  proper  per- 
sons might  be  sent  to  examine  into  the  state  of  things.'     The  Assembly 
assented  to  this  request,  and  Cleon  himself  was  named  among  those  to 
be  commissioned  for  the  purpose.     Pressed  by  this  proposal,   which 
he  was  aware  would  not  answer  his  end,  and  anxious  anyhow  to  throw 
the  weight  of  the  business  upon  others,  he  seems,  in  the  moment,  to 
have  lost  his  guard.     'It  were  idle  waste  of  time,'  he  said,  'to  send 
commissioners  to    inquire,  when  they  should  rather  send  generals  to 
execute.     If  those  who  directed  the  military  affairs  of   the  Common- 
wealth were  men,  it  would  be  easy  with  the  force  which  they  could  at 
all  times  command  to  subdue  the  little  band  of  Spartans  in  Sphacteria  J 
were  he  in  that  station  he  would  engage  to  effect  it.'     The  unenterpri- 
sing Nicias,  at  tiiis  time  commander-in-chief,  being  thus  called  upon,  in 
his  anxiety  to  obviate  crimination,  miserably  betrayed  the  dignity  of  hw 
12 


90  THE  KNIGHT,  &C. 

high  office.  '  As  far  as  depended  upon  him,'  he  said,  '  Cleon  might 
take  what  force  he  pleased,  and  make  the  attempt.'  Cleon  immediate- 
ly accepted  the  offer,  thinking  it  not  seriously  made ;  but  Nicias  per- 
sisting, Cleon  would  have  retracted,  saying  'Nicias,  not  he,  was  gene- 
ral of  the  Republic'  ISicias,  however,  observing  that  his  proposal  had 
not  displeased  the  Assembly,  declared  solemnly  before  the  Assembly  that 
for  the  business  of  Pylus  he  waived  his  right  to  command.  The  more, 
then,  <  leon  appeared  still  anxious  to  withdraw,  the  more  the  people, 
as  the  historian  observes,  in  the  usual  temper  of  mobs,  insisted  that  he 
should  make  his  words  good,  with  clamour  requiring  that  Nicias  should 
resign  the  command  and  that  Cleon  should  take  it.  Thus  appoint- 
ed general,  Cleon,  though  alarmed  with  the  danger,  was  elated  with 
the  extravagant  honour;  and  in  the  next  Assembly  held  on  the 
business,  he  resumed  his  arrogant  manner:  'He  did  not  fear 
the  Lacedaemonians,  he  said,  and  for  the  expedition  to  Pylus,  he 
would  desire  no  Athenian  forces:  he  would  only  take  the  Lemnian 
and  Imbrian  heavy-armed,  at  that  time  in  Attica,  with  the  middle-armed 
of  CEnus  and  four  hundred  bowmen  of  the  allies;  and  with  that  small 
addition  to  the  armament  then  at  Pylus,  he  would,  within  twenty  days, 
either  bring  the  Lacedaemonians  in  Sphacteria  prisoners  to  Athens,  or 
put  them  to  the  sword  upon  the  spot.'  Amid  the  many  very  serious 
considerations  involved  with  the  business,  this  pompous  boast  excited 
a  general  laugh  in  the  Assembly  :  yet  even  the  graver  men,  says  the 
historian,  were,  upon  the  whole,  pleased  with  the  event,  upon  con- 
sidering that  of  two  good  things  one  must  result ;  either  an  important 
advantaL'e  must  be  gained  over  the  Lacedaemonians,  or,  what  they  rather 
expected,  they  should  be  finally  delivered  from  the  importunity  of 
Cleon.  It  soon,  however,  appeared,  that  though  for  a  man  like  Cleon, 
unversed  in  military  command,  the  undertaking  was  rash,  and  the  brag- 
ging promise  abundantly  ruliculous,  yet  the  business  was  not  so  despe- 
rate as  it  was  in  the  moment  generally  imagined;  and,  in  fact,  the 
folly  of  the  Athenian  people,  in  committing  such  a  trust  to  such  a  man, 
far  exceeded  that  of  the  man  himself,  whose  impudence  seldom  carried 
him  beyond  the  contrnul  of  his  cunning.**  Those  who  wish  to  pur- 
sue the  story  will  find  their  curiosity  amply  gratified  by  the  pages  of 
the  historian,  from  whom  the  preceding  account  is  taken.  It  will  be 
sufficient  lo  observe  here,  that  by  the  exertion  of  a  little  prudence,  and 
by  some  fortunate*  coincidences,  Cleon  completely  fulfilled  his  en- 
gagement, and  actually  entered  the  Peiraeus  within  twenty  days  after 
he  had  quitted  it. 

*  Demosthenes  bad  been  principally  deterred  from  attempting  a  landing  upon 
the  island,  from  the  circumstance  of  its  being  very  thickly  wooded  :  his  former 
campaicrn  in  /Etolia  having  snfficienlly  apprised  him  of  the  use  which  might  be 
made  of  such  an  advantage.  An  accidental  fire,  which  happened  just  before  the 
arrival  of  Cleon,  destroyed  most  of  the  trees  on  the  island,  and  removed  the 
main  obstacle  to  a  successful  attack  upon  the  occupiers  of  it.   Thuc.  lib.  iv.  c.  30. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONiE. 

Demus,  an  old   Citizen  of  Jlthens,  and  in  whom  the  Athenian   People  are 

iypijied. 
Demosthenes,  l^^^^^^^p^^^^g^ 

NiCIAS,  3 

The  Paphlagonian,  (Cleon,)  Steward  to  Demus. 
Sausage-Seller,  {afterwards  Agoracritus.) 
Chorus  of  Knights. 

SCENE — Space  before  Demus's  House, 


THE  KNIGHTS; 

OR 

THE    DEMAGOGUES. 


ACT  1. 

SCENE  I. 

Demosthenes.     Nicias. 

The  two  illustrious  generals,  whose  names  stand  at  the  head  of  the  scene, 
enter  the  stage,  dressed  in  their  proper  costume  of  slaves,  and  complain  bitterly 
of  the  hardships  they  suffer  since  the  introduction  of  an  execrable  Paphlagonian 
into  the  house  of  their  common  master,  Demus.  After  a  ridiculous  concert  of 
lamentation,  derived  from  the  elegies  of  *01ympus,  the  celebrated  musician > 
the  two  slaves  being  to  consider  that  they  have  power  to  quit  this  mansion,  the 
scene  of  so  much  misery  lo  them.  Neither,  however,  ventures  to  suggest,  in 
direct  terms,  the  proposal  of  so  heinous  a  scheme.  The  ftimid  character  of 
Nicias  is  properly  discriminated  here,  as  well  as  that  of  the  blunt  soldier  De- 
mosthenes, who  was  more  fitted  for  executing  the  plans  of  others  than  devising 
any  of  his  own,  A  proposal,  which  required  art  and  a  certain  equivoque  in  the 
expression,  does  not  pass  without  a  blow  at  Euripides,  whose  dangerous  sen- 
timents the  poet  delighted  to  expose.  It  is  Nicias  who  wishes  to  cover  his 
own  want  of  confidence  by  clothing  his  diction  in  that  tragedian's  "  neat  and 
clever"  manner;  but  Demosthenes  will  not  hear  of  it :  "if  you  love  me,  if  you 
have  any  regard,  any  bowels  of  compassion,  spare  me  the  mortification  of  a 
:t:potherb."  But  though  averse  to  any  dealing  with  the  great  tragedian,  De- 
mosthenes is  still  urgent  upon  his  fellow-slave  to  exert  his  invention,  and  ena- 
ble them  to  chant  the  song  of  deliverance  {apodnum)  from  their  servitude. 
Nicias  at  last  falls  upon  a  method  for  expressing  a  word,  which  seems  to  cost 
the  parties  as  much  difficulty  in  the  avowal  as  the  confession  which  is  so  deli- 
cately wrung  from  Phaedra  in  the  beautiful  tragedy  of  Hippolitus.     The  colder 

*  Olympus,  the  Phrj  gian,  lived  in  the  time  of  Midas,  before  the  Trojan  war,  yet  his 
compositions  or  vsmo/,  as  ■well  the  music  as  the  verses,  were  extant  even  in  Plutarch's 
days.  Plato  bestows  the  highest  encomiums  upon  his  compositions,  as  well  as  those  of 
Marsyas,  calling  them  most  divine.  Gray's  Notes  on  Arist.  Plato,  Minos.  It  was  the 
delight  of  the  comic  poets,  from  causes  which  have  been  already  explained,  to  throw  ri- 
dicule upon  the  musicians. 

t  This  part  of  Nicias's  character  has  been  well  caught  and  pourtrayed  in  the  Lettres 
Atheniennes  of  Crebillon  ;  a  work,  which  gives  a  vei-y  interesting  picture  of  the  politics 
of  this  period,  but  mixt  up  with  so  much  exceptionable  matter  as  scarcely  to  pay  the 
trouble  of  consulting  it  An  acute  and  goodhumoured  view  of  the  whole  play  as  a  dra- 
matic work,  may  be  found  in  the  English  Athenian  Letters,  written  by  the  members  of  a 
noble  family,  who  have  distinguished  themselves  equally  in  literature  and  politics. 

%  This  blow  at  the  parentage  of  Euripides  has  been  already  explained. 


THE  KNIGHTS,   &C.  93 

inflexions  of  our  *  language  will  not  allow  us  to  show  the  facility  and  pleasantry 
with  which  Demosthenes  is  made  finally  to  slip  into  the  criminal  word:  and 
the  purity  of  our  manners  fortunately  forbids  all  explanation  of  the  action,  by 
which  the  dialogue  was  made  more  piquant  to  the  dissolute  and  worthless  au- 
dience. The  word,  thus  ingeniously  compounded,  implied  a  resolution  to  desert 
their  old  master  and  take  refuge  with  another;  and  desertion,  uncountenanced 
as  yet  by  the  example  of  the  unprincipled  Alcibiades,  was  held  in  strong  and 
merited  abhorrence.  While  the  general,  therefore,  admits  the  gratefulness  of  the 
proposal,  he  suggests  that  their  skins  may  suffer,  if  they  venture  to  put  it  into 
execution.  Nicias  then,  consistently  with  those  religious  feelings  which  made 
part  of  his  character,  proposes  that  they  should  betake  themselves  as  suppliants 
to  the  statue  of  some  god.  "  Statue !"  says  the  rough  soldier,  "  and  of  some 
god  !  why,  prithee,  man,  dost  thou  believe  that  there  are  such  beings  as  jgods?" 
I  t'^o,"  replies  Nicias.  "  Your  reasons!"  "The  sufferings  I  bear,  and  the 
little  justice  with  which  they  are  put  upon  me."  The  general,  no  logician, 
yields  implicitly  to  this  argument,  and  has  no  other  resource  to  offer  but  that  of 
laying  their  case  before  the  spectators ;  Nicias  assents,  but,  with  his  usual  dis- 
trust, begs  the  audience  to  give  some  token  first  whether  the  subject  was  ao-ree- 
able.  A  clapping  of  hands  most  probably  expressed  the  approbation  of  the  audi- 
ence, and  the  task  of  the  narrative  falls  upon  Demosthenes — probably  in  compli- 
ment to  the  actor  who  performed  the  part, — it  paints  '  the  sovereign  people'  with 
admirable   §force  and  humour. 

With  reverence  to  your  worships,  't  is  our  fate 
To  have  a  testy,  cross-grain'd,  bilious,  sour 
Old  fellow  for  our  master;  one  much  giv'n 

*  The  separable  preposition  of  the  German  language  has  enabled  Wieland  to  come 
something  near  the  original,  but  the  inferiority  of  the  translation  is  still  very  percep- 
tible. 

JVihias.  So  sprich  denn — Imifen  ivir — heraus  damit? 

Demos.  Gut!  also — Imiffeii  luii'— 

JVikias.  Nun  hang'an   "  laiiffen  wir" 

Das  wort  "  davon" — 

Demos.  Davon. 

JVilcias.  Votreflich!  nun 

Sprich  erst  ganz  langsam,  langsam,  "  laufferi  wir''' 
Dann  immer  haufFiger,  und  schneller  das  davon — 
Du  weisstja  was  ich  meyne!— 

Demos.  Laufen — laufen  wir 

Davon,  davon,  davon. 

t  The  question  here  put  into  the  mouth  of  Demosthenes  was  probably  congenial  with 
that  soldier's  sentiments.  After  making  all  allowances  for  dramatic  licence  and  cos- 
tume, the  question  of  Wieland  will  occur  to  every  person,  who  reflects  upon  the  charges 
which  the  writer  afterwards  brought  against  Socrates  :  Und  eine  solclie  fi-age  durfte 
der  Dichter  seinem  Demosthenes  auf  ofientlichem  schauplass  ungestraft  in  den  mund 
legen,  und  das  in  eben  der  stadt,  wo  Sokrates  in  der  folge  den  Giftbecher  trinken  musste, 
weil  cr  beschuldigt  wurder  dass  er  die  Gtitter  der  Athener  nicht  fiir  Gotter  halte? 

:t:Tl>e  piety  of  Nicias  appears  to  have  excited  the  scoffs  of  his  hardier  countrymen  ;  it 
yet  remained  for  adversity  to  shew  to  what  sublimity  this  feeling  could  raise  a  mind  na- 
turally feeble  and  despondent.  History  presents  nothing  grander  to  us  than  the  addresses 
of  Nicias  to  his  soldiers  after  the  reverses  in  Sicily. 

§  Plato  had  very  probably  his  eye  upon  this  picture  of  Aristophanes,  in  that  curious 


94  THE  KNIGHTS  ; 

To  a  *bean-diet  ;  somewliat  hard  of  hearing  ; 

Demus  his  name,  sirs,  of  the  parish  f  Pnyx  here. 

Some  three  weeks  back  or  so,  this  lord  of  ours 

Brought  home  a  lusty  slave  from  Paphlagonia, 

Fresh  from  the  tanyard,  tight  and  yare,  and  with 

As  nimble  fingers  and  as  foul  a  mouth 

As  ever  yet  paid  tribute  to  the  gallows. 

This  tanner-Paphlagonian  (for  the  fellow 

Wanted  not  penetration)  bow'd  and  scrap'd, 

And  fawn'd  and  wagg'd  his  ears  and  tail,  dog-fashion : 

And  thus  soon  slipp'd  into  the  old  man's  graces. 

Occasional  douceurs  of  leather-parings. 

With  speeches  to  this  tune,  made  all  his  own. 

"  Good  sir,  the  court  is  up, — you  've  judg'd  one  cause, 

'T  is  time  to  take  the  bath  ;  allow  me,  sir, — 

This  cake  is  excellent — pray  suj)  this  broth — 

This  soup  will  not  offend  you,  though  cropfuU — 

You  love  an  obolus ;  pray  take  these  :J:three — 

Honour  me,  sir,  with  your  commands  for  supper." 

Sad  times  meanwhile  for  us ! — with  prying  looks, 

Round  comes  my  man  of  hides,  and  if  he  finds  us 

Cooking  a  little  something  for  our  master. 

Incontinently  lays  his  paw  upon  it. 

And  modestly  in  his  own  name  presents  it ! 

It  was  but  th'  other  day  these  hands  had  mixt 

A  Spartan  pudding  for  him;  there — at  §Pylus  : 

Slily  and  craftily  the  knave  stole  on  me, 

allegorical  description  which  he  puts  into  the  mouth  of  his  great  master,  when  pressed 
to  give  his  reasons  why  philosophers  are  not  more  frequently  seen  directing  the  higher 
departments  of  state.     See  his  Republic,  v.  ii.  p.  15.     Massey. 

*  In  giving  their  suffrages,  the  Athenian  dicasts,  or  judges,  made  use  of  seashells,  or 
pebbles,  or  beans.  The  latter  was  the  more  common  and  the  more  modern  practice. 
Hence  the  allusion  in  the  text. 

tor  the  Pnyx,  that  scene  of  so  many  historical  recollections,  some  account  has  already 
been  given  in  the  preceding  play.  As  the  General  Assemblies  were  usually  held  on  the 
Pnyx  hill,  it  is  very  properly  made  the  parish  of  the  allegorical  Demus.  The  fondness 
of  the  Athenians  for  these  adjuncts,  derived  from  their  tribe  or  ward,  has  also  been  no- 
ticed in  the  Acharnians  ;  a  curious  proof  of  its  known  efficacy  upon  them  occurs  in  the 
funeral  oration  ascribed  to  Demosthenes,  as  delivered  after  the  fatal  battle  of  Chseronea. 
The  speech,  where  so  many  topics  were  to  be  avoided  and  so  many  to  be  touched  with  a 
delicate  hand,  artfully  concludes  with  a  catalogue  of  the  wards  of  Attica,  and  a  separate 
panegyric  upon  the  heroes,  the  supposed  founders  of  them.  One  powerful  source  of  this 
feeling  must  have  originated  in  a  custom  mentioned  by  the  French  Anacharsis.  Par  une 
institution  admiration,  ceux  d'une  tribu,  d'un  canton,  sont  enrol  is  dans  la  meme  cohorte, 
dans  le  mcme  escadron  ;  ils  marchent,  ils  combattent  a  cjts  de  leurs  parents,  de  leurs 
amis,  de  leurs  voisins,  de  leurs  rivaux.  Quel  soldat  oserait  commettre  une  lachete  en 
presence  de  tfemoins  si  redoutables!     Voyage  d'Anach.  torn.  ii.  p.  214. 

%  Every  person  who  attended  the  courts  of  law,  or  the  General  Assembly,  received 
three  obols  for  his  labour. 

^  It  has  been  explained  very  largely  in  the  preface  to  this  play  what  this  allusion 
tends  to. 


OR  THE  DEMAGOGUES.  95 

Ravish'd  the  feast  and  to  my  master  bore  it. 

Then  none  but  he,  forsooth,  must  wait  at  table  : 

(We  dare  not  come  in  sight)  but  there  he  stands 

All  supper-time,  and  with  a  leathern  flytlap 

Whisks  off  the  *advocates  ;  anon  the  knave 

Chants  out  his  |oracles,  and  when  he  sees 

The  old  man  plung'd  in  mysteries  to  the  ears, 

And  scar'd  from  his  few  senses,  marks  his  time, 

And  enters  on  his  tricks.     False  accusations 

Now  come  in  troops;  and  at  their  heels  the  whip. 

Meanwhile  the  rascal  siiuffles  in  nmong  us, 

And  begs  of  one, — browbeats  another, — cheats 

A  third,  and  frightens  all.     "My  honest  friends, 

These  cords  cut  deep,  you  Ml  find  it — I  say  nothing, — 

.Tudge  you  between  your  purses  and  your  backs  ; 

I  could,  perhaps" — We  take  the  gentle  hint, 

And  give  him  all  ;  if  not,  the  old  man's  foot 

Plays  such  a  tune  upon  our  hinder  parts, 

That  flogging  is  a  jest  to  't,  a  mere  fleabite — 

Wherefore,  {turning  to  Niciai)  befits  it  that  wo  think  what  course 

To  take,  or  where  to  look  for  help. 

iVJc.  No  course 

So  good  as  that  I  just  advanced  you  : — flight — 
Immediate  flight. 

Dcm.  Marry,  but  how  avoid 

The  Paphlagonian  ?  he  hath  ubiquity 
As  'twere  about  him;  one  leg  rests  on  Pylus, 
The  other  takes  firm  footing  in  ih'  Assembly  ; 

*  The  advocates,  or  public  orators,  performed  so  important  a  part  in  the  common- 
wealth of  Alliens,  that  the  reader  cannot  have  some  account  of  them  submhled  to  him 
too  soon.  Tliey  were  ten  in  number,  and  were  elected  by  lots,  to  plead  public  causes  in 
the  Senate  and  the  General  Assembly.  Indeed,  the  princi|)al  business  of  those  two  meet- 
ings, though  it  was  free  to  every  member  to  deliver  his  sentiments  in  them,  was  conduct- 
ed by  the  public  orators.  For  every  cause  in  which  they  were  retained,  they  received  a 
(IracJvn  f'd.  or  ^d.)  out  of  the  public  exchequer.  They  generallv  made  trial  of  their 
powers  first  in  the  courts  of  justice  :  when  practice  had  confirmed  their  talents,  they  en- 
tered upon  a  nobler  career,  that  of  enlightening;  the  senate,  and  guiding  the  people. 
This  was  a  task  of  peculiar  delicacy  and  the  highest  importance.  No  man,  therefore, 
was  admitted  to  the  ofiice  of  a  public  orator  under  the  age  of  forty  years  :  nor  then  till 
after  a  strict  examination,  in  which  the  points  most  insisted  on  were — valour  in  war, 
piety  to  parents,  prudence  in  the  management  of  afl^airs,  frugality  and  temperance.  There 
were  two  or  three  laws  by  which  any  malversation  in  this  most  important  office  was 
guarded  against.  Corruption  and  venality,  in  spite  of  these  provisions,  prevailed  among 
these  men  ;  and  their  cunning  and  their  eloquence  enabled  them  to  evade  the  punish- 
ments they  amply  deserved  ;  one  of  them,  named  Aristophon,  could  boast  that  no  less 
than  sevcntyfive  accusations  had  been  brought  against  him,  and  that  he  had  triumphantly 
repelh  (1  all  of  them. 

t  Oracular  responses  and  predictions,  always  abounding  in  Greece,  seem  to  have  been 
circulated  in  unusual  numbers  towards  the  commencement  of  the  Peloponnesian  war. 
Thucydides,  lib.  ii.  c.  8.  The  oracles  in  the  te.\t  are  the  versified  oracles  [-^^fiwixu):  the 
prose  oracles  were  called  hoyix- 


95  THE  knights; 

With  either  hand  the  varlet  grasps  ^tolia! 

And  for  his  mind — it  hath  fit  habitation 

In  *Clopidae  : — how  shun  a  man  so  various  1 

Nic.  'T  were  better  then  to  give  our  cares  the  slip, 
And  end  our  sorrows  and  our  lives  at  once  : 
One  onlv  thought  remains,  to  die  as  most 
Befits  brave  men. 

Dem.  How  best  may  that  be  done  ? 

Nic.     Nought  better  than  a  draught  of  bullock's  blood  : 
It  was  the  dose  that  gave  fThemistocles 
A  grave  :  who  dies  like  him  must  needs  die  bravely. 

Dem.  (^contemptuously)  A  draught  of  bullock's  blood!— a  draught  of  jiure 
And  genuine  :j:vvine  might  serve  the  turn  much  better. 
Nouoht  genders  thoughts  so  brilliant  as  a  flask. 

Nic.  A  flask !  thy  soul  is  ever  in  ihy  cups ; 
What  thoughts  can  habit  in  a  toper's  brain  ? 

Dem.  Harkye,  thou  trifling,  bubbling  water-drinker. 
Who   darest  speak  treason  thus  against  good  liquor ! 
Resolve  me — speak — What  stirs  the  §wit  most  nimbly? 
What  makes  the  purse  feel  heaviest,  or  gives 
Most  life  to  business  ? — wine  !   What  masters  all 
Disputes'? — a  merry  cup  !  What  gives  the  spirits 
Their  briskest  flow  ? — good  liquor  !  What  most  sets 
The  soul  afloat  in  love  and  friendly  benefits  1 — 
A  mantling  bowl ! — hand  me  a   pitcher  then  : — 
Quick,  quick,  nay  quick !     I'  11  bathe  my  very  mind 
And  soul  therein,  and  then  see  who  can  hit 
Upon  a  trim  device. 

Nic.  Alack  a  day  ! 

What  will  that  drunkenness  of  thine  engender!     {Goes  in  doors.) 

*  In  this  colossal  picture,  Aristophanes  follows  his  usual  metliod  of  punning  upon 
actual  or  fabricated  names  of  places.  The  province  JEtolia  is  selected  because  derived 
from  a  Greek  word,  which  signifies  to  beg  ;  and  Clopidie,  in  like  manner,  because  it  was 
at  once  an  Attic  borough,  and  implied  the  act  of  stealing.  Boccaccio  is  fond  of  fabri- 
catinsj  fictitious  names  of  countries  in  the  same  manner  :  see  among  others  the  exquisite 
tales   of  Frate  Cipolla  (La  sesta  Giornata.     Nov.  10.)  and  maestro Simone  (lottava  Gior, 

Nov.  9.) 

t  The  poet  fellows  a  popular  tradition,  current  in  Atliens,  in  ascribing  the  death  of 
Themistocles  to  a  draught  of  bullock's  blood. 

i  At  the  Greek  festivals  a  large  cup,  called  the  cup  of  Good  Genius,  and  full  of  UJi- 
mixed  wine  was  carried  round  the  tables,  which  all  the  guests  were  accustomed  to  taste. 
For  the  ori'Mn  of  the  custom,  see  Athen.  lib.  xv.  p.  675.  Demosthenes,  an  experienced 
drinker  was  no  friend  to  that  dilution  of  wine  which  the  custom  was  intended  to  com- 
memorate. 

5>  The  poet  it  is  to  be  believed,  speaks  his  own  sentiments  here,  as  well  as  those  of 
Demosthenes.  Aristophanes  is  said,  like  ^scliylus,  to  liave  composed  many  of  his  plays 
under  the  influence  of  wine.  In  Plato's  celebrated  banquet  (which  is  anything  but  a  feast 
of  san-es)  the  wine  circulates  very  freely  ;  and  Aristophanes,  and,  I  blush  to  say  it,  So- 
crates, are  left  drinking  together  till  daylight.  The  reader  will  perhaps  smile  to  see 
Tasso  bringing  forward  the  same  teacher  of  wisdom  as  an  excuse  for  a  little  intemper- 
ance.    See  Black's  Life  of  that  unfortunate  poet,  vol.  ii.  p.  21. 


OR  THE  DEMAGOGUES.  37 

Dem.  Much  good,  believe  me  :  quick,  and  bring  the  wine  then. 
I  '11  lay  me  down, — let  but  the  generous  fumes 
Once  mount  into  my  head,  and  they  will  gender 
Such  dainty  little  schemes — such  titbit  thoughts — 
Such  trim  devices  ! — 

SCENE  II. 

Demosthenes.     Nicias  returninsr  tcith  Wine. 

JVic.  ^'ng  '^^'6  jubilate  ! 

I  have  purloined  the  wine  and  'scap'd  observance. 

Bern.  How  fares  the  Paphlagonian,  lad  ?  deliver  me. 

Nic.  The  rogue  hath  made  of  confiscation-sales 
A  sorry  meal,  and  fill'd  his  skin  with  liquor. 
Now  stretch'd  at  fnll  upon  a  heap  of  hides 
The  sorcerer  sleeps  sound. 

Bern.  Then  pour  me  out 

A  cup  of  wine — no  stint — a  bumper,  look  ye, 
And  let  the  echo  smack  her  lips  in  unison. 

JVic.  (pours  out  tvirie.)  Now  make  libation  to  the  Better  Genius — 
If  the  name  of  *Pramnian  suit  him  more — to  him 
Be  made  the  offering 

IJeiti.  To  the  Better  fJenius  !  {DrinJi-s,  and  seems  to  meditate.') 

A  happy  inspiration  comes  across  mo. 
Thine  be  the  credit  of  this  bright  invention  !     {Looking  at  his  pitcher  toith  an 

affectation  of  devotion.') 
Quick,  {to  Nicias)  quick  ;  and  while  the  Paphlagonian  sleeps. 
Bring  forth  those  foracles  he  hoards  within. 

*  Pramnian  wine  was  not  in  great  repute  among  the  Greeks  ;  it  was  neither  luscious 
nor  thick,  two  qualities  which  the  ancients  seem  to  have  very  mucli  regarded  in  wine. 
We  have  tlie  testimony  of  Aristophanes  (Ath.  lib.  i.  p.  30.)  that  harsli  poets  and  rough 
wine  like  the  Pramnian,  were  cquallj'  repugnant  to  the  taste  of  the  Athenians.  Tlie 
poet,  with  dramatic  propriety',  has    given  it  to  the  slaves  in   the  text. 

t  The  Athenian  taste  for  oracles  and  predictions  is  best  learnt  by  a  pcnisal  of  Hero- 
dotus. Those  ascribed  to  the  Sybil,  AIusxus,  and  other  inspired  persons  of  the  fabidous 
and  heroic  times,  seem  to  have  been  in  great  request.  A  still  more  particular  credit  was 
ascribed  to  those  whicii  bore  on  them  the  name  of  Bacis,  a  Bceotian,  Mho  was  supposed 
to  have  received  the  gift  of  pro])hccy  from  tbe  Nymphs,  vhose  temple  stood  in  the  older 
times  on  Mount  Cithxron.  There  appear  to  have  been  individuals  or  families  at  Athens 
who,  possessing  large  collections  of  oracles  ascribed  to  this  Bacis,  thought  themselves 
masters  of  a  great  treasure,  and  thus  became  the  prey  of  more  cunning  persons,  who  pre- 
tended to  decypher  these  mysteries,  which  were  enveloped  in  strange  and  enigmatical 
characters.  That  Cleon  was  not  without  belief  in  predictions  of  this  kind  seems  reason- 
able to  conclude  from  this  and  the  following  scene  :  and  it  is  the  more  likely  as  neither 
in  extraction,  education,  nor  modes  of  thinking,  was  he  at  all  elevated  above  the  loM'est 
of  the  people-  Wieland,  Die  Demagogen  des  Aristofanes,  s.  13.  These  prophecies  of 
Bacis  are  not  to  be  confounded,  s,ays  M.  de  Pauw,  torn.  ii.  p.  206.  with  those  contained 
in  the  mysterious  volume  called  the  Testament,  over  which  such  a  veil  of  impenetrable 
secrecy  was  thrown  that  no  part  of  it  has  transpired  to  gratify  the  curiosity  of  modern 
times.  Dinarchus  (the  only  author  among  the  ancients  who  mentions  this  prophetic 
book)  accuses  Demosthenes  of  having  failed  in  respect  to  this  mysterious  volume,  on 
which,  according  to  him,  the  fate  of  Alliens  was  suspended. 

13 


98  THE  knights; 

Nic.  Is  this  the  scheme  the  Better  Genius  promptsi 
I  fear  me  much  that  your  divinity 
Will  lose  his  name,  and  only  cross  your  ends.  {Enters  the  house.') 

Dem.  Meantime  I  put  this  pitcher  to  my  mouth, 
That  I  may  wet  my  drought-parch'd  mind  and  hit 
Upon  some  neat  device.     {Drinks.') 

Nic.  {returning,')     The  rogue  sleeps  soundly, 
Or  I  had  not  come  off  so  clean  :  here  is 
The  oracle.  'Tis  that  he  prizes  most: 
Hoarding  with  care,  as  if 't  were  somewhat  sacred, 

Dem.  Thou  art  a  clever  fellow  ;  reach  it  here — 
My  eyes  must  take  account  of  this ;  and,  friend, 
Put  speed  into  your  hand  and  fill  a  cup. 
I'll  see  what  stuff  these  oracles  are  made  of. 
{Reads)  Anan ;   some  liquor,  quick  ! 

Nic.  'T  is  here.     How  runs 

The  oracle  ? 

Dem.  {drinks  and  reads.  )  More  liquor. 

Nic.  Call  you  that 

The  wording  on't  ? 

Dem.  {reading.)  O  *Bacis  ! 

Nic.  Why,  what  now  ? 

Dem.  {reading.)  Wine,  wine,  more  wine. 

Nic.  {pouring  out  wine.)  This  Bacis  was  no  flincher. 

Dem.  {reading.)  So  so ;  thou  varlet  of  a  Paphlagonian  1 
'T  was  this  bred  such  distrust  in  thee,  and  taught 
To  hoard  these  prophecies. 

Nic.  Say  you  % 

Dem.  I  say 

Here  is  a  prophecy,  which  tells  the  time 
And  manner  of  this   fellow's  death. 

Nic.  Out  with  it. 

Dem.  {reading.)  The  words  are  clear  enough :  first  says  my  oracle — 
There  shall  arise  within  our  state  a  flint-seller. 
And  to  his  hands  the  state  shall  be  committed. 

Nic.  One  seller  note  we  : — good — proceed — what  follows  ? 

Dem.  {reading.)  Him  shall  a  sheep-seller  succeed. 

Nic.  A  brace 

Of  sellers !  good — What  shall  befall  this  worthy  ? 

*  It  is  after  reconling  an  oracle  of  Bacis,  that  Herodotus  makes  his  wellknown  decla- 
ration, that  he  should  never  afterwards  dare  to  question  the  authority  of  oracles  himself, 
nor  submit  to  such  doubts  in  others.     Urania,  c.  77. 

t  The  whole  of  the  dialogue  here  is  a  bitter  satire  upon  the  deterioration  of  the  Athe- 
nian democracy  since  the  death  of  Pericles  ;  whose  successors  in  administration  had  been 
a  lint-seller,  Eucrates,  a  sheep  seller,  Lysicles,  and  a  leather-seller,  Cleon.  It  is  al- 
most unnecessary  to  add,  that  the  language  of  satire  is  not  to  be  construed  too  literally  ; 
and  that  the  same  extension,  perhaps,  is  to  be  allowed  here  as  in  the  language  applied 
by  Juvenal  to  the  father  of  Demosthenes,  who  instead  of  being  a  mere  blacksmith,  was 
the  proprietor  of  a  large  establishment  for  the  manufacture  of  swords,  carried  on  by  a 
numerous  body  of  those  unfortunate  slaves,  who  abounded  so  much  in  every  Grecian 
state. 


OR  THE  DEMAGOGUES.  99 

Dem.  {reading.)  'T  is  fixt  that  he  bear  sway  till  one  arise 
More  wicked  than  himself — that  moment  seals  him  : 
Then  comes  the  Paphlagonian, — the  hide-seller, — 
The  man  of  claws,  whose  voice  outroars  *Cycloborus. 

Nic.  The  man  of  sheep  then  falls  beneath  the  lord 
Of  hides! 

Dem.         Even  so: — thus  runs  the  oracle. 

Nie.  Another  and  another  still  succeeds, 
Anj  all  are  sellers ! — sure  the  race  must  be 
Extinct!— 

Dem.  One  yet  is  left,  whose  craft  may  stir 
Your  wonder. 

Nic.  What  his  name  ? 

Dem.  Wouldst  learn  1 

Nic.  Aye,  marry. 

Dem.     I  give  it  to  thee  then : — {with  emphasis)  the  man  that  ruins 
The  Paphlagonian  is  — a  f  sausage-seller. 

Nic.  You  jest.     A  sausage-seller! — 'tis  a  craft 
Indeed  !  and  where  may  such  a  man  be  found  1 

Dem,  The  task  remains  with  us  to  search  him  out. 

Nic.  Why  yonder  see,  he  moves  into  the  forum.  {SausagC'Vender  is  seen  at  a 
distance.) 
The  hand  of  providence  is  sure  in  this  ! 

Dem.  Hither,  thou  happiest  of  sausage-sellers  ! 
I  give  you  hail  ! — this  way,  dearest  of  men! — 
Mount  up,  thou  saviour  of  our  town  and  us. 
Thy  humble  servants ! 

SCENE  III. 

Sausage-vender,  Demosthenes,  Nicias. 

Satts.  Prithee  now,  what  wouldst  thou 

With  me"? 

Dem,     This  way,  this  way:  list,  friend,  and  learn. 
The  happy  and  the  blessed  man  you  are. 

Nic.  First  rid  him  of  his  chopping-block :  then  pour 
Into  his  ears  how  runs  the  oracle, 
And  what  the  blessed  fortune  that  awaits  him — 
I  '11  turn  an  eye  upon  the  Paphlagonian 
'W\Xh\n.{Enters  the  house.) 

Dem,  {to  the  sausage-vender.)  First  please  to  laj'  those  implements 
Upon  the  ground — then  do  all  courtesies 
And  sets  of  adoration  to  the  gods 
And  mother  Earth.:|: 

•  A  river  of  Attica. 

+  The  satire  here  is  coarse,  but  bitter  :  the  whole  turn  of  the  comedy,  as  will  easily 
be  seen,  is  to  put  Cleon  in  the  most  contemptible  light  possible. 

%  There  appears  to  have  been  a  piece  of  superstition  among  the  lower  orders  at  Athens, 
which  consisted  in  kissing  the  spot  of  ground  on  which  they  stood,  when  any  piece  of 
good  luck  happened  to  them. 


1 00  THE  KNIGHTS  ; 

Saus.  Allan  ! 

Lem.  Happiest  cf  men! 

What  wealth  awaits  thee  !  thou  to-day  art  nothing; 
Yet  shall  to-morrow  see  thee  top  of  all, 
And  blessed  Athens  own  thee  her  prime  minister ! 

Saus.  {coldly.)  Good  man,  I  fain  would  wash  me  these  intestines: 
Why  should  you  put  a  hindrance  in  my  way, 
And  make  a  flout  at  me? 

Dem.  {contemptuously.)  Intestines,  say  you  1 
Simplest  of  men  I — your  eyes  this  way  awhile — 
Seest  thou  yon  companies  of  men  ?  {Points  to  the  audience.) 

Saus.  I  do  : 

What  then  1 

Dem.  Of  all  these  thou  shalt  be  the  lord 

And  sovereign — the  pnyx,  the  ports,  the  forum, — 
Not  one  but  waits  thy  ruling  nod.     The  senate 
Thy  feet  shall  trample  on  :  the  generals 
Shall  fall  like  chips  before  thee  :  lord  of  stocks 
And  sovereign  of  dungeons,  thou  shalt  lock. 

And  bind — nay,  further,  {lowering  his  voice)  in  the  Hall  shalt  have — 
A  *wellspread  bed, — nor  want  companion  in  it. 

Saus.     All  this  for  me  1 

Dem.  Aye,  and  much  more,  believe  me — 

But  mount  thy  block,  good  friend,  and  cast  thy  eyes 
On  yonder  f  isles — dost  see  them  ? 

Saus.  Yes. 

Dem.  Nay,  but 

The  marts,  the  merchantmen — 

Saus.  I  mark  them  all. 

Dem.     O  thou  art  Fortune's  very  favourite  ! 
The  child  of  happiness  ! — your  right  eye,  sir, 

*  A  pleasantry  by  surprise,  directed  to  the  coarser  appetites  of  the  person  in  the  text. 
It  was  usual  with  the  Athenians  to  grant  those  citizens,  ■whose  services,  talents,  or  vir- 
tues had  ennobled  their  country,  an  honourable  provision  for  life  in  the  Prytaneum,  or 
hall  of  public  entertainments.  The  poet  appears  to  be  providing  a  similar  daily  banquet 
for  his  sausage  dealer,  but  by  a  single  word  he  changes  the  sense  expected  and  expresses, 
what  I  have  been  obliged  to  substitute  a  whole  line  for,  and  miss  tiie  play  of  words  besides. 
These  difficulties  occur  in  almost  every  ten  lines  of  Aristophanes. 

+  Almost  all  the  islands  in  the  iEgean  sea,  as  well  as  the  numerous  Grecian  cities  of 
Asia  Minor,  of  the  Hellespont  and  of  Thrace,  were  tributary  subjects  of  the  Athenian 
people  :  they  were  not  allowed,  says  Mr  Mitford,to  possess  ships  of  war,  but  were  de- 
pendent upon  Athens  for  protection,  and  liable  to  every  kind  and  degree  of  controul 
from  that  imperial  state.  The  following  extract  from  Isocrates  will  show  in  what  manner 
this  haughty  people  could  indulge  in  all  the  pride  and  ostentation  of  tj'ranny.  The  pas- 
sage is  thus  translated  by  the  historian,  whom  1  have  just  quoted.  "So  diligent  were 
the  Athenians  to  discover  how  they  might  most  earn  the  detestation  of  mankind,  that  by 
a  decree  they  directed  the  tribute  money  to  be  exhibited  at  the  Dionysian  festival,  on  the 
stage  of  the  theatre,  divided  into  talents  ;  thus  making  parade  before  the  allies,  numbers 
of  whom  would  be  present,  of  the  property  wrested  from  them  to  paj'  that  very  mer- 
cenary force  by  which  they  were  held  in  so  degrading  a  subjection  ;  and  setting  the  other 
Greeks,  of  whom  also  many  would  be  present,  upon  reckoning  what  orphans  had  been 
made,  what  calamities  brought  upon  Grecian  states,  to  collect  that  object  of  pride  for  the 
Athenian  people." 


OR  THE  DEMAGOGUES.  101 

On  Caria, — your  left  upon  Clialcedon.* 

Saus.  And  call  you  this  the  top  of  happiness — 
To  have  my  eyes  distorted  1 — cry  your  mercy. 

Bern.  Nay,  you  mistake — a  whisper  in  your  ear — 
All  these  are  so  mucli  money  in  your  purse — 
For  thou  wilt  be — or  there  's  no  faith,  be  sure, 
In  oracles — a  most  prodigious  man  ! 

Saus.  Go  to,  you  canting  varlet,  am  not  I 
A  sausage-vender  ] — how  shall  greatness  then 
Sit  on  a  man  of  my  profession  1 

Bern.  Tut ! 

It  is  the  very  source  of  greatness : — answer : — 
Art  not  a  knave  1 — art  not  o'the  forum  ?| — hast  not 
A  front  of  brass  ? — can  Fortune  set  her  seal 
Of  greatness  with  more  certainty  upon  thee  ! 

Saus.  I  cannot  find  in  me  that  worthiness 
And  seal  of  future  power  you  vaunt  so  mightily. 

Dem.  Anan  !  why  sure  thou  hast  some  squeamishness 
Of  honesty  about  thee  !     All  's  not  right, 
I  fear: — answer,  art  fair'? — art  honest  ? — art 
A  gentleman  ?:|: — how  say 'st? 

Saus.  {coldly.)  Not  I,  by  Jove  ! 
I  am,  as  all  my  fathers  were — a  blackguard. 

Dem.  Then  thou  art  blest : — Fortune  hath  stamp't  and  mark'd  thee 
For  state-aflairs. 

Saus.  Nay,  I  want  skill  in  music  ;§ 

*  Caria  and  Chalcedon  ■were  the  northern  and  southern  extremities  of  real  or  asserted 
Athenian  dominion  on  tlie  western  side  of  ancient  Asia. 

•f  Tlic  agora  or  forum  was  the  resort  of  all  the  idle  and  profligate  in  Athens.  "When 
Theoplirastus  describes  a  vicious  character,  the  agora  is  sure  to  be  the  scene  in  which 
some  part  of  it  is  laid. 

%  The  word  used  in  the  text  is  that  which,  in  the  Socratic  school,  signified  the  utmost 
perfection  of  which  our  nature  is  capable.  An  English  translator  may  take  pride  ia 
feeling  that  his  own  language  can  not  onlj'  supply  a  word  which  comes  nearest  in  meaning 
to  the  Ka-KCKitybiA  ol  the  ancients,  but  that  Iiis  own  counUy  is  that  where  most  examples 
of  it  are  to  be  found  in  existence.  Some  apology,  perhaps,  is  due  for  the  manner  in  which 
the  reply  to  the  question  in  the  text  is  worded  ;  but  the  translation  is  literal,  and  the 
moral  disgust,  which  it  is  meant  to  convey,  forms  some  justification,  it  is  hoped,  in  re- 
taining it. 

§  A  knowledge  of  music  formed  one  of  the  elementary  branches  of  Athenian  education. 
It  was  necessary  for  the  younger  people  of  both  sexes,  that  they  might  be  able  to  bear  a 
part  in  the  choruses  and  the  hymns  which  accompanied  their  many  religious  solemnities  ; 
it  was  required  of  men,  who  held  the  higher  offices  of  the  state,  to  enable  them  to  give 
their  suffrages  with  propriety  at  those  contests,  which  were  perpetually  submitted  to 
their  decision  at  the  theatre  and  the  music  rooms.  We  must  not,  however,  confine  the 
term  music  to  the  precise  meaning  which  it  bears  at  present.  It  had  a  close  relation  to 
gi-ammar,  and  was  made  to  bear  upon  all  the  niceties  of  that  wonderful  language.  "  So 
simple  is  its  analogy,"  says  Mr  Mitford,  "of  such  complex  art  in  its  composition  and 
inflexion,  of  such  clearness,  force,  and  elegance  in  its  contexture,  and  of  such  singular 
sweetness,  variety,  harmony,  and  majesty  in  its  sound."  How  nicely  susceptible  the  Attic 
ear  was,  and  how  minntcly  the  lowest  persons  entered  into  the  intricacies  of  its  com- 
position, may  be  inferred  from  the  wellknown  story,  related  by  Cicero,  of  Theophrastus 
and  the  herb-woman. 


102  THE  knights; 

And  am  the  sorriest  dabster  e'en  at  letters.* 

Dem.  Better  you  wanted  that  small  skill  you  boast — 
'T  is  all  that  makes  'gainst  thy  sufficiencies  : 
Music  and  letters  ! — tut !  we  want  no  gifts 
Like  these  in  men  who  rule  us — morals,  quotha? — 
A  dolt — a  knave, — these  are  the  stuff  we  make 
Our  statesmen  of — but  come — throw  not  away 
The  blessing  gracious  heav'n  has  put  upon  thee 
By  virtue  of  these  oracles. 

Satis.  First  let  me  hear 

The  wording  of  them. 

Dem.  Nay,  you  '11  find  no  want 

Of  wisdom  in  them,  nor  variety 
In  the  conceit — observe —  (Reads.) 

(Oracle.)]" 

When  the  monster,  half-tanner,  half-eagle,  shall  take 

To  his  mouih,  crooked-back'd,  the  dull  blood-sucking  snake: 

Then  if  rightly  prophetic  the  future  I  trace, 

Paphlagonia  and  :j:pickle  shall  sink  in  disgrace. 

*  In  the  Athenian  course  of  instruction  the  ypafjifxcLrnnc  (or  grammarian)  immediately 
preceded  thex/9«p/c»c  (or  music-master).  Both  preceptors  cultivated  the  imagination, 
almost  exclusively  at  the  expense  of  the  understanding  ;  and  to  this  vicious  system  of  edu- 
cation may  be  traced  much  of  the  wild  extravagance  and  fickle  enthusiasm  which  so 
strongly  marked  the  Athenian  character.  Instead  of  those  plain  treatises  on  the  nature, 
extent,  and  situation  of  the  soil  on  which  we  live,  and  those  works  on  morality,  which 
teach  us  how  to  live,  the  first  book  which  the  grammarian  invariably  put  into  the  hands 
of  his  pupil,  was  the  works  of  Homer.  The  whole  of  these  (see  Plato's  Banquet)  were 
not  unfrequently  committed  to  memory  ;  and  the  mischiefs,  which  resulted  from  thus 
reading  in  infancy,  what  ought  to  have  been  the  study  of  riper  years,  were  so  many,  (see 
the  Repub.  1.  2.  3.)  that  Plato,  notwithstanding  his  own  evident  predilection  tor  the 
great  father  of  poetry,  concludes  with  banishing  him  from  his  infant  state.  From  the  criti- 
cism, commentaries,  explanations,  and  interpolations  of  Homer  by  the  grammarians,  the 
pupil  was  committed  to  the  teacher  of  music  ;  till  it  was  gradually  discovered  that  a  long  ap- 
plication to  music  unfits  the  mind  for  the  acquisition  of  the  sublimer  sciences  ;  that  as  the 
sounds  and  airs  are  retained,  ideas  are  apt  lo  slip  from  the  memory,  and  that  the  play  o 
the  understanding  becomes  less  in  proportion  as  the  fingers  become  more  active.  De  Fauw 
torn.  ii.  p.  128.  From  the  works  of  ^schines,  or  the  person  who  wrote  in  his  name,  it 
appears  therefore  that  harp  music  as  well  as  flute  music  (vide  the  Acharnians)  fell 
gradually  into  disuse  :  but  the  grammarians  (who  stood  nearly  in  the  same  relations  of 
rivalrv  and  opposition  to  the  philosophers  as  the  comic  writers)  did  not  so  easily  part 
■with  their  predilection  for  poetry  ;  and  the  exclusive  system  of  the  two  illustrious  gram- 
marians, Aristophanes  of  Byzantium,  and  Aristarchus  of  Alexandria,  may  almost  be 
traced  in  the  great  public  schools  of  England  to  this  day,  where  the  dramatists,  the  lyric 
and  epic  poet,  almost  entirely  supersede  the  philosopher,  and  not  unfrequently  the  his- 
torian and  the  orator  of  antiquity. 

t  Oracles  were  commonly  delivered  in  verse,  or  at  least  committed  to  measure  as  soon 
aS  they  had  passed  the  prophetic  lips  of  the  priestess.  M.  de  Pauw,  remarking  upon 
those  delivered  at  Delphi,  has  very  justly  observed  that  nowhere  did  the  god  of  harmony 
receive  such  cruel  affronts  as  in  his  own  sanctuary  ;  where  the  task  of  versifying  the  pre- 
dictions delivered  by  the  god  was  committed  to  persons  who  sinned  not  only  against 
poetry,  but  the  commonest  rules  of  metrical  composition. 

^  Most  probably  the  liquid  used  in  tanning. 


OR  THE  DEMAGOGUES.  103 


The  venders  of  sausages'  star  shall  arise, 

And  Glory  come  down  with  a  crown  from  the  skies : — 

Unfading  their  fame,  as  their  sacrifice  great, 

Who  leave  a  good  trade  to  take  care  of  the  state. 

Sous,  And  how  points  this  to  me  1 

JDem.  I  will  resolve  you. 

The  tanner-eagle  is  the  Paphlagonian. 

Saus,  But  he  is  call'd  crook-beak'd. — 

Dent.  With  reason  good. 

What  else  his  hands  but  beak  and  claws  and  talons  ? 

Saus.  But  then  the  serpent — how  expound  you  that  ? 

Dem.  Nay,  't  is  the  clearest  of  similitudes : 
What  is  a  serpent  but  a  lengthy  thing  1 
And  what  your  sausage  but  the  samel — again — 
Your  sausage  is  a  bloodsucker; — so  is 
Your  snake — and  snake,  so  runs  the  prophecy. 
Shall  beat  the  tanner-eagle  ; — take  he  heed, 
Meantime,  that  no  false  speeches  cozen  him. 

Saus.  The  light  is  broke  upon  me,  and  I  see 
A  call  from  heav'n  in  this ; — I  marvel  most 
How  I  shall  do  to  rule  the  populace. 

Dem.  Nought  easier :  model  you  upon  your  trade. 
Deal  with  the  people  as  with  sausages — 
Twist,  implicate,  embroil ; — nothing  will  hurt, 
So  you  but  make  your  court  to  Demus — cheating 
And  soothing  him  with  terms  of  kitchen  science. 
All  other  public  talents  are  your  own; 
Your  voice  is  strong,  your  liver  white,  and  you  are 
O'  the  forum — say,  could  Diffidence  ask  more 
To  claim  the  reins  of  state  1 — the  Pythian  god, 
The  oracles  are  in  your  favour; — clap  then 
A  chaplet  on  your  head ;  drop  instant  prayer 
Unto  Coalemus,*  and  bear  your  manhood 
Entire  against  him. 

Sans.  But  what  aidance  may  I 
Expect  ?  The  wealthier  fear,  the  meaner  folk 
Pay  the  most  crouching  reverence  to  him. 

D<m-  Nay,  nay, 

The  Knights  will  be  your  friends,  there  are  among  them 
Some  twice  five  hundred,  who  detested  him ;  citizens 
Of  breeding  and  of  mark,  be   sure,  will  side 
With  you,  and  such  spectators  here  as  boast 
Right-minded  notions — what 's  more  to  the  purpose, 
Thou  'It  lack  no  aid  which  heav'n  and  I  can  give. 


*  This  demigod  (the  Genius  of  Stupidity)  is  most  probably  a  deity  of  the  author's  o\ni 
creation.  Another  ideal  being  called  Copalos,  to  whom  the  sausage-vender  also  appeaU 
more  than  once  in  this  play,  possessed  a  more  substantial  place  in  tlie  Attic  legends,  ac- 
cording to  Wieland.  That  learned  writer  considers  the  Cobalos  of  Aristophanes  as  nearly 
allied  to  Shakespeare's  Puck,  and  still  more  to  the  Kobou)£  of  his  own  countrymen. 


104  THE  KNIGHTS  i 

But  see  thou  show  no  fear :  none  needs  :  the  face 

You  '11  see  is  not  the  Paphlagonian's, 

Nor  bears  its  nice  impress  :  for  our  artificers 

Took  fright  and  would  not  give  a  semblance  of  it — 

It  matters  not: — an  audience  like  this 

Needs  no  such  aidance  to  their  nice  discernment. 

SCENE  VI. 

NiciAS,  Demosthenes,  Cleon,  Sausage-Vender. 
Chorus. 

Nic.  He  comes,  he  comes,  the  cursed  Paphlagonian ! 

Cleon,  whose  enterance  has  been  thus  artfully  delayed,  at  length  makes  his 
appearance:  he  begins  immediately  with  the  common  popular  cry  of  Athens, 
that  a  conspiracy  is  on  foot,  and  that  the  democracy  is  in  danger :  he  remarks 
the  cup  from  which  Demosthenes  had  made  his  libation : — ic  was  a  cup  from 
Chalcis,*  and  consequently  proved  most  clearly  that  the  two  slaves  were  stirring 
up  the  Chalcidians  to  a  revolt:  death  of  course  was  to  be  the  punishment  of  such 
an  atrocity.  At  the  sight  of  his  terrible  antagonist,  the  sausage-vender's  courage 
forsakes  him,  and  he  endeavours  to  make  his  escape :  he  is  brought  back,  however, 
to  the  charge  by  Demosthenes,  who  makes  a  powerful  appeal  to  the  Knights. 

"  Now,  gentlemen  of  the  horse,  is  the  time  to  give  your  assistance."  Two 
of  them  are  summoned  by  name — "  Simonj — Panaetius — to  the  right  wing! 
forward."  The  Knights  are  obedient  to  the  summons.  Demosthenes  turns 
triumphantly  to  the  sausage-vender,  and  bids  him  mark  the  dust  which  announc- 
ed the  approach  of  this  new  body  of  auxiliaries.  The  attack  of  the  Knights, 
who  are  thus  artfully  interwoven  into  the  business  of  the  piece,  commences  in 
a  burst  of  double  trochaics,  the  common  metre  for  expressing  strong  emotion  on 
the  Greek  stage.  It  is  observable  that  the  name  of  the  object  of  their  attack 
never  escapes  their  lips.:^: 

*  The  revolt  among  the  Chalcidians  (not  those  of  Euboea,  as  the  learned  Casaubon 
inadvertently  observes,  but  of  Thrace)  actually  broke  out  about  this  time  ;  and  the  serious 
consequences,  with  which  it  was  attended,  could  little  have  been  foreseen  by  the  poet, 
or,  with  all  his  audacity,  he  would  hardl}-  have  ventured  to  joke  upon  the  subject.  The 
Athenians  lost  by  this  revolt  one  of  those  valuable  dependencies,  (Amphipolis,)  from 
whose  wealth  their  republic  chiefly  derived  its  power ;  but  posterity  has  gained  by  it 
one  of  the  most  incomparable  histories,  which  any  age  or  country  ever  produced.  The 
works  of  Thucydides,  Xenophon,  Dante,  and  Clarendon,  form  indeed  the  best  compen- 
sation for  the  acts  of  injustice,  which  have  too  often  disgraced  the  annals  of  free  govern- 
ments both  in  ancient  and  modern  times. 

t  It  was  a  person  of  this  name,  whom  Xenophon  followed  in  his  Treatise  on  Horse- 
manship. 

%  The  reader  has  already  been  apprised  of  the  coarse  invective,  which  many  of  the 
following  scenes  will  exhibit.  If  we  were  to  consult  those  curious  little  Provencal  poems, 
called  tensons,  in  which  the  knights  of  a  later  period  contested  with  each  other  the 
prize  of  composition  with  as  much  heat  as  they  did  the  prize  of  valour,  we  should, 
perhaps,  find  instances  of  recrimination  not  less  gross  than  those  exhibited  in  the  follow- 
ing comedy.  A  tenso7i  is  preserved,  in  whichAlbert  Malespina  and  Rambaud  de  Vaque- 
iras,  two  of  the  greatest  lords  and  most  valiant  captains  of  the  thirteenth  century,  re- 


or  the  demagogues.  105 

Chorus. 

Stripes  and  torment,  whips  and  scourges,  for  the  toll-collecting  knave ! 

Knighthood  wounded,  troops  confounded,  chastisement  and  vengeance  crave. 

Taxes  sinking,  tributes  shrinking,  mark  his  appetite  for  plunder; 

At  his  craw  and  rav'ning  maw  dykes  and  Avhirl pools  fail  for  wonder. 

Explanation  and  evasion — covert  art  and  close  deceit — 

Fraudful  funning,  force  and  cunning,  who  with  him  in  these  compete? 

He  can  cheat  and  eke  repeat  twenty  times  his  felon  feat. 

All  before  yon  blessed  sun  has  quench'd  his  lamp  of  glowing  heat. 

Then  to  him — pursue  him — strike,  shiver,  and  hew  him  ; 

Confound  him  and  pound  him,  and  storm  all  around  him — 
And  keep  wary  eye.  Made  a  way,  will  this  man 

Looking  round,  far  and  nigh.  Discover  some  plan, 

Or  with  the  same  ease  Corner,  hole,  crack,  or  cran- 

As  the  knave  Eucrates,*  ny,  your  eyes  to  trepan. 

Through  the  chaff  and  the  bran  And  escape  as  he  can. 

Confounded  by  an  attack,  which  commences  so  vigorously,  Cleon  calls 
loudly  on  the  members  of  the  Helicea  (the  high  court  of  judicature)  for 
help. 

Judges,  jurymen,  or  pleaders,  you  whose  soul  is  in  your  fee  ; 

You  that  in  a  three-piec'd  obol,  father,  mother,  brother  see; 

You,  whose  food  1  'm  still  providinsf,  strainingr  voice  through  risrht  and  wrontr — 

Mark  and  see — conspiracy  drives  and  buffets  me  along! 

Cho.  'T  is  with  reason — 't  is  in  season — 't  is  as  you  yourself  have  done: 
Thou   fang,  thou   claw — thou   gulph,  thou   maw!   yielding   partage   fair   to 

none. 
Where  's  the  officer  at  audit  but  has  felt  your  cursed  gripe? 
Squeez'd  and  tried  with  nice  discernment,  whether  yet  the  wretch  be  ripe. 
Like  the  men  our  figs  who  gather,  you  are  skilful  to  discern 
Which  is  green  and  which  is  ripe,  and  which  is  just  upon  the  turn. 

preach  each  other  with  having  deceived  their  allies  by  false  oaths,  and  with  having 
robbed  on  the  high  roads.  As  these  couplets  were  extemporaneous  productions,  an 
excellent  critic  and  historian  (M.  Sismondi)  charitably  demands  that  allowance 
should  be  made  for  the  heat  of  the  moment,  and  the  difficulty  perhaps  of  finding  a 
rhyme.  The  heroes  of  chivalry,  however,  were  not  unfrcquently  given  to  be  foul 
mouthed.  Two  French  knights,  in  one  of  Mr  Ellis's  specimens,  call  Richard  Coeur 
de  Lion  a  iaylard ;  Charlemagne  hits  his  nephew  Roland  a  great  blow  on  the  nose, 
and  styles  him  a  traitor;  while  the  courtiers  both  of  Arthur  and  Charlemagne 
(another  substantial  reason  for  considering  the  latter  as  Charles  Martel)  repeatedly 
call  their  monarch  a  fool,  and  treat  him  with  the  utmost  contempt.  See  particularly 
the  Morgante  Maggiore,  a  poem  which  affords  us  so  many  domestic  trails  of  the 
heroes,  whom  we  have  been  accustomed  to  admire  in  Ariosto  and  Tasso. 

•  Eucrates  appears  to  have  speculated  in  flour  as  well  as  in  flax.     In  his  office 
of  public  treasurer,  he  disappeared  with  a  large   sura  of  the  public   money.     In 
Athens,  where  everything  was  made  a  subject  of  pleasantry,  the  escape  of  Eucrates 
passed  into  a  bon-mot, 
14 


106  THE  knights; 

Is  there  one  well-purs'd  among  us,  lamblike  in  *heart  and  life, 
Link'd  and  wedded  to  retirement,  hating  business,  hating  strife  1 
Soon  your  greedy  eye  's  upon  him — when  his  mind  is  least  at  home, — 
Room  and  place — from  farthest  Thrace, f  at  your  bidding  he  must  come. 
Foot  and  hand  are  straight  upon  him — neck  and  shoulder:^  in  your  grip. 
To  the  ground  anon  he  's  thrown,  and  you  smite  §him  on  the  hip. 

Cleon  (^fawning.)  Ill  from  you  comes  this  irruption,  you  for  whom  my  cares 
provide, 
To  reward  old  deeds  of  valour,  stone  and  monumental  pride. 
'T  was  my  purpose  to  deliver  words  and  speech  to  that  intent — 
And  for  such  my  good  intentions  must  I  be  thus  tempest-rent  ? 

Cho.  Fawning  braggart,  proud  deceiver,  yielding  like  a  pliant  thong  ! 
We  are  not  old  men  to  cozen  and  to  gull  with  lying  tongue. 
Fraud  or  force — assault  or  parry — at  all  points  will  we  pursue  thee : 
And  the  course  which  first  exalted,  knave,  that  same  shall  now  undo  thee. 

Cleon  [to  the  audience.)  Town  and  weal — I  make  appeal — back  and  breast 
these  monsters  feel. 

Cho.  Have  we  wrung  a  clamour  from  thee,  pest  and  ruin  of  our  town  ] 

Sous.  Clamour  as  he  will,  I  'II  raise  a  voice  that  shall  his  clamour  drown. 

Cho.  To  outreach  this  knave  in  speech  were  a  great  and  glorious  feat — 
But  to  pass  in  face  and  brass — that  were  triumph  all  complete. 
Then  might  fly  to  earth  and  sky  notes  of  victory  paean'd  high! 

Cleon  {to  the  audience.')  Allegation — affirmation — I   am   here   prepared    to 
make 
That  this  man  {pointing  to  the  Sausage-vender)  shipp'd  spars  and  ||timber  and 
— sausages  for  Sparta's  sake. 

Sous.  Head  and  oath,  I  stake  them  both,  and  free  before  this  presence 
say. 
That  the  Hall  a  guest  most  hungry  sees  in  this  man  (pointing  to  Cleon)  ev'ry 

day; 
He  walks  in  with  belly  empty  and  with  full  one  goes  away. 

Dem.  Add  to  this,  on  my  witness,  that  in  covert  close  disguise. 
Of  fish  and  flesh  and  bread  most  fragrant — he  makes  there  unlawful  prize  : 
Pericles,  in  all  his  grandeur,  ne'er  was  gifted  in  such  guise. 

*  How  difficult  it  was  for  the  most  quiet  and  cautious  person  to  live  undisturbed 
in  Athens,  is  most  clearly  evinced  by  those  naive  confessions,  which  the  licensed 
garrulity  of  old  age,  and  the  consciousness  of  an  upright  and  wellspent  life,  allowed 
Isocrates  to  make  in  his  later  speeches.  See  particularly  the  Oration  de  Permuta- 
tione,  and  that  called  the  Panathenaic. 

■j-  Some  of  the  most  valuable  colonies  of  Athens  lay  in  the  Chersonesus  of 
Thrace,  and  consequently  many  of  the  richest  citizens  made  it  their  occasional 
residence. 

i  Some  terms  of  the  palaestra  are  here  introduced,  the  exact  meaning  of  which 
does  not  appear  to  be  thoroughly  understood.  The  learned  reader  is  referred  to  Sca- 
liger's  note  on  the  passage  in  Kuster's  edition  of  Aristophanes. 

§  Literally,  1/021  sxualloiv  him  up,  like  the  loaf,  collabus. 

II  Certain  forbidden  articles  of  exportation  and  some  articles  of  cookery  are  con- 
founded together  in  the  original  by  one  of  those  plays  of  words,  which  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  preserve  in  a  translation. 


OR    THE    DEMAGOGUES. 


107 


Cleon  (loudly.')  Cleon  {mortified.) 

Fate  hath  mark'd  you  with  her  eye:  Small  applause  your  feats  demand  : 
Yet  awhile  and  both  must  die.  The  art,  't  is  known, 

Saus.  {louder.)  Is  not  your  own; 

Pitch  your  voice,  knave,  as  you  will :  You  're  but  a  knave  at  second  hand. 


I  '11  that  voice  out-clamour  still. 

Cleon  {crescendo.) 
When  I  soar,  the  ocean's  roar 
Fails  for  very  wonder. 
Saus. 
In  my  throat  I  've  but  one  note, 


But  to  the  hall,  anon,  I  go. 
Incontinent  our  chairmen  know, 
You  've  intestines  here  which  owe 
A  tythe  to  Jove  and  heaven. 

Cho. 
Wretch !  without  a  parallel — 


And  that  note  is — thunder.  {Speaking    Son  of  thunder — child  of  hell, — 


very  loud.) 

Cleon. 
I  have  test  your  parts  to  try : 
Look  at  me,  nor  wink  your  eye. 

Saus. 
Be  your  challenge  on  your  head :  {Looks 
without  winking.) 


Creature  of  one  mighty  sense. 
Concentrated  impudence! — 
From  earth's  centre  to  the  sea. 
Nature  stinks  of  that  and  thee. 
It  stalks  at  the  bar. 
It  lurks  at  the  tolls; 
In  th'  Assembly,  black  war 


{Scornfully.)  Where  suppose  ye  I  was     And  defiance  it  rolls. 


bred? 

Ckon. 
I  can  steal,  and,  matchless  grace! 
Own  it  with  unblushing  face. 
You  dare  not  thus  pursue  it. 

Saus. 
Empty  boasting,  void  as  air! 
I  can  steal,  and  then  outswear 
The  man  who  saw  me  do  it. 


It  speaks  to  our  ears 
In  an  accent  of  thunder; 
It  climbs  to  the  spheres 
And  rives  heav'n  asunder. 
Athens  deafens  at  the  sound  in  her  ears 
still  drumming; 

W^hile  seated  high. 
You  keep  an  eye 
Upon  the  tolls,  like  those  who  spy 
If  tunny  fish  be  coming. 
Cleon.  It  'scapes  me  not,  whose  hands  this  plot  have  paicWd  for  my  undoing. 
Saus.  Thanks  for  the  word — 't  is  well  preferr'd  and  asks  a  short  pursuing, — 
To  stuff  intestines  is  my  trade,  as  yours  the  art  of  shoeing. 
By  the  same  sign,  a  scurvy  hide  your  skill  was  lately  trying; 
The  bumpkins  heard,  and  out  of  hand  were  all  for  shoes  applying. 
Solid  and  good  the  leather  seem'd,  yet  scarce  was  sol  in  ocean. 
But  two  large  fists  had  found  within  full  power  of  locomotion. 

Beyn.  Myself  can  best  this  truth  attest — I  shod  me  in  his  leather; 
My  burg  just  reach'd,  the  skin  so  stretch'd,  I  scarce  my  point  could  weather. 
My  townsmen  sneer'd — my   neighbours  jeer'd — 't  was   ask'd   thro'  all  the 

quarter — 
Came  you  in  boots,  sir,  or  a  boat — by  land,  sir,  or  by  water? 


Cho. 
From  the  first  unto  the  last. 
Never  was  this  man  surpast 
In  the  lawyer's  shield  and  pass,- 
Front  of  iron,  face  of  brass! 


This  it  is,  wherewith  he  bilks 
Wealthy  foreigners,  and  milks 
Sojourners  both  all  and  one. 

Mark  *Hippodamus's  son!   {Point- 
ing to  him  among  the  audience.) 


Hippodamus  was  a  celebrated  architect.     See  Mcursius  de  Pirso,  c.  2. 


108  THE  knights; 

At  his  sight  he  feels  undone,  Quirks,  and  heart-diving  wiles, 

And  his  tears  in  torrents  run!  And  the  craft  of  false  smiles, 

But  my  eyes — transport  fraught —  Covert  art  and  pretence. 

Have  at  length  vision  caught  And  bold  plain  impudence: — 

Of  a  man  in  tongue  war  For  his  very  emanations 

His  superior  by  far:  Are  a  common  thiePs  sensations. 

One  that  leaves  him  behind 

In  each  trick  of  the  mind, 
But  thou,  {turning  to  Sausage-vender,)  whose  breeding  and  whose  feeding  were 

in  those  schools  and  masters. 
From  whence  proceed  all  those  who  breed  our  present  state  disasters, — 
Unfold  thy  speech — direct  and  teach  in  eloquent  oration 
That  they  are  naughfwho  'd  have  us  taught  a  virtuous  education. 

Saus.     Then  at  a  word  must  first  be  heard  my  rival's  estimation. 

Cleon  {eagerly.)  I  claim  precedence  in  my  speech — nor  you  my  right  deny, 
sir. 

Saus.  Your  reason, — pleal — mere  knavery!  {proudly)  marry,  and  what  am 
I,  sirl 
I  stake  my  fame  and  this  way  claim  a  right  to  prior  speaking. 

Cho.  {gravely.)  The  reason's  good,  well  understood; — if  more  the  foe  be 
seeking. 
Be  it  replied — that  you  're  a  knave  and  not  of  new  creation, 
But  known  and  tried — on  either  side — through  all  your  generation. 

Cleon  {to  Saus.)  Dost  still  oppose? 

Saus.  'Fore  friends  and  foes. 

Cleon.  My  soul  is  in  commotion : — 

By  Earth  !— 

Saus.  By  Air ! — 

Cleon.  I  vow ! 

Saus.  I  swear ! 

Cleon.  By  Jupiter!— 

Saus.  By  Ocean ! — 

Cleon.  O  I  shall  choke — 

Saus.  You  shall  not  choke— myself  am  your  prevention. 

Cho.  {to  Saus.)  Forbear,  forbear,  my  friend — nor  mar  so  useful  an  intention ! 

Cleon  {to  Saus.)  Discuss — propound   your  cause — your   ground  for   these 
your  words  nefarious. 

Saus.  My  powers  of  speech — my  art  to  reach  phrase  season'd  high  and 
various — 

Cleon  {contemptuously.)  Your  powers  of  speech ! — ill  fare  the  cause  beneath 
your  hands  e'er  falling — 
Batter'd  and  rent,  't  will  soon  present  a  sample  of  your  calling. 
The  same  disease  will  fortune  you — that  meets  our  eyes  not  rarely : — 
Hear — mark — reply,  and  own  that  I  discuss  the  matter  fairly. 
Some  petty  suit  'gainst  strangers  gain'd— anon  you  're  set  a  crowing; 
The  mighty  feat  becomes  forthwith  a  birth  that  's  ever  growing. 
By  day,  by  night,  on  foot,  on  horse,  when  riding  or  when  walking, — 
Your  life  a  mere  soliloquy — still  of  this  feat  you  're  talking.* 

•  The  extreme  disposition  of  the  Athenians  to  garrulity  is  painted  with  admirable 


OR    THE    DEMAGOGUES.  109 

You  fall  to  drinking^  water  next — on  generous  wine  you  trample, 
While  friends  are  sore — worn  o'er  and  o'er  with  specimen  and  sample. 
And  this  attain'd,  you  think  you  've  gain'd  the  palm  of  oratory — 
Heav'n  help  ihee,  silly  one,  you  've  yet  to  learn  another  story. 

Sous.  And  what  is  your  own  beverage,  its  mode'?  its  preparation? 
That  you  alone  have  found  the  art  to  tongue-tie  all  the  nation  ? 

Cleon  (^fiercely.)  And   who   dares  bandy  words  with  me,  or  meet  me  in 
oration  ? 
'Tis  but  to  eat  some  tunny  fish  and  sup  a  strong  potation, 
And  I  am  he  that  dare  set  free  my  tongue  in  loose  reviling, 
'Gainst  all  our  chiefs  in  Pylus'  fort  long  charge  and  crimes  compiling. 

Saus.  (Jiercely.)  At  speech  or  feat,  at  word  or  meat,  mark  here  your  fit 
opponent — 
Let  ribs  of  beef  this  framework  line — let  tripe  form  part  component : 
Let  me  but  sup  the  broth  clean  up,  and — no  ablutions  making — 
The  advocates  I  '11  throttle  all,  and  Nicias  set  a-quaking.* 

Cho.  {luith  gravity,  to  Saus.)  Your  speech  well  ran  as  it  began,  nor  ask'd 
the  end  aspersion — 
But  to  sup  broth,  nor  ask  your  friends, — may  gender  some  aversion. 

A  translator  may  easily  feel  doubtful  in  what  light  this  scene  will  appear  to 
an  English  reader.  If  he  should  think  there  is  fire  and  vigour  in  it,  he  may 
be  assured  that  that  vigour  does  not  diminish  ;  if  he  considers  it  more  coarse 
than  humourous,  no  promise  can  be  held  out  that  the  dialogue  becomes  more 
refined ;  on  the  contrary,  it  immediately  assumes  a  character  of  jthreat  and 
recrimination  which  the  most  fastidious  taste  might  object  to  without  being 

humour  by  Theophrastus ;  vide  Char.  3.  7.  Isocrates,  who  did  not  spare  his  country- 
men, rallies  them  also  on  the  same  topic.  Our  passion,  says  he,  for  talking  is 
insatiable :  we  are  ever  indeed  commending  moderation  and  fitness  of  season,  and 
if  our  ordinary  language  might  be  believed,  they  are  qualities  which  surpass  all 
others ;  but  the  moment  we  imagine  we  have  anything  to  oficr  ourselves,  all  mo- 
deration is  at  an  end;  something  has  still  been  left  unsaid,  some  little  addition  is 
yet  to  be  made,  and  fitness  of  season  might  almost  be  thought  to  be  synonymous 
with  unlimited  duration.     De  Permuta.  v.  ii.  p.  411. 

*  The  excessive  timiditj^  of  Nicias  is  satirized  by  many  of  the  comic  writers  of 
his  time.  Plutarch,  in  his  Life  of  Nicias,  has  quoted  some  strong  passages  from 
Teleclcides,  Eupolis,  and  Phrynichus,  to  this  effect;  but  his  own  observations  are 
still  stronger,  and  mark  in  an  extraordinary  manner  the  fears  to  which  persons  of 
property  were  subjected  in  a  democracy  like  Athens.  He  (Nicias)  was  so  afraid  of 
informers,  says  Plutarch,  that  he  would  neither  venture  to  eat  nor  converse  with  any 
of  the  citizens,  nor  would  he  visit,  or  be  visited,  or,  in  a  word,  enter  into  any 
amusements  of  this  kind.  When  he  was  Archon,  he  used  to  stay  in  court  till  night, 
being  always  the  first  that  came,  and  the  last  that  went  away.  When  no  public 
business  called  him  from  home,  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  get  access  to  him,  for  he 
kept  himself  close  within  doors ;  and  when  any  came  to  speak  with  him,  he  had 
some  particular  friend  ready  who  went  to  the  gate,  desiring  Nicias  might  be  excused, 
because  he  was  then  taken  up  with  some  important  affairs  relating  to  the  state. 

f  The  small  omission  which  is  here  made,  may  not  inadequately  be  supplied  from 


110  THE  knights; 

thought  over-delicate.  The  Greeks,  however,  allowed  a  wider  range  to  their 
humour  than  we  do :  and  the  exertions  of  the  Sausage-vender,  so  far  from 
offending  the  moral  Chorus,  are  rewarded  by  the  applauses  of  those  friends  in 
the  shape  of  the  following  reflections — "  Fire  is  not  the  most  burning  thing  in 
nature :  and,  shameless  as  the  words  are,  which  we  hear  continually  in  our 
city,  it  seems  there  are  words  of  still  more  frontless  impudence, — courage, 
thou  illustrious  vender  of  sausages  ! — what  you  have  done  already  is  by  no 
means  despicable — but  persevere — you  have  your  enemy  already  by  the  waist, 
throw  him  once  to  the  ground,  and  you  '11  find  him  a  very  bankrupt  in 
courage." 

Saus.  Nor  am  myself  unschool'd  what  man  I  have 
T'  encounter  with — coward  he  is  at  heart, 
And  only  wears  a  show  of  bravery 
When  his  false  sickle  reaps  another's  harvest. 
Reaping  where  ethers  sow'd,  his  ears  he  harvests : 
And  having  dried  them,  looks  him  out  a  purchaser. 

This  of  course  alludes  to  the  affair  of  Pylus  and  the  money  which  Cleon 
hoped  to  make  of  the  prisoners  who  had  there  fallen  into  his  hands.  Cleon 
affects  an  utter  indifference  to  all  these  charges.  "  I  am  perfectly  safe,"  says 
he,  "while  the  senate  exists,  and  while  Demus  remains  in  a  sedentary  state, 
and  more  like  an  image*  than  a  living  person.  A  consciousness  of  self- 
security,  however,  does  not  abate  a  warm  feeling  of  resentment  against  his  ad- 
versary. "I  hate  you,"  says  he,  turning  to  the  persecuting  Sausage-vender, 
"  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart;  and  if  ever  this  feeling  cease,  may  I  become 

Shakspeare's  Timon  of  Athens.     The  poet  of  all  ages  and  all  times  has  caught  the 
very  scurrility  of  the  old  comedy  in  the  following  little  dialogue. 

Tim.  I  had  rather  be  a  beggar's  dog,  than  Apemantus. 

»4p.  Thou  art  the  cap  of  all  the  fools  alive. 

Tim.  Would  thou  wert  good  enough  to  spit  upon. 
A  plague  on  thee  ! 

^p.  Thou  art  too  bad  to  curse, 

Tim.  All  villains,  that  do  stand  by  thee,  are  pure. 

Jlp.  There  is  no  leprosie  but  what  thou  speak'st. 

Tim.  If  I  name  thee. — I'll  beat  thee ;  but  I  should  infect  my  hands. 

^p.  I  would  my  tongue  could  rot  them  off! 

Tim.  Away,  thou  issue  of  a  mangy  dog  ! 
Choler  does  kill  me,  that  thou  art  alive : 
I  swoon  to  see  thee. 

^p.  Would  thou  wouldst  burst ! 

Tim.  Away  thou  tedious  rogue,  I  am  sorry  I  shall  lose  a  stone  by  thee, 

^p.  Beast! 

Tim.  Slave ! 

^p.  Toad! 

Tim.  Rogue !  rogue  !  rogue  ! 

*  Suidas  derives  the  verb,  by  which  the  representative  of  the  Athenian  people  is 
characterised,  from  Macco,  a  woman,  who  to  the  misfortune  of  dumbness  added  into- 
lerable stupidity.  Wieland  supposes  that  the  scene  opened  in  this  part  and  discovered 
Demus  sitting  as  described  in  the  text. 


OR    THE    DEMAGOGUES. 


Ill 


one  of  Cratinus's  pillows,*  or  be  taught  to  sing  a  part  in  a  tragedy  of  Morsi- 
mus."  This  attack  rouses  the  acrimony  of  the  Chorus,  who  return  the  assault 
in  the  following  manner. 

Chorus. 
Matchless  this   knave  ! — at  ear  and     Then  will  I  sing  and  sportive  say, 


eye, 
Mouth,  touch,  and  taste — he 's  bribery. 
On  beds  of  fragrant  flowers  he  sips 
Corruption  at  his  very  lips. 
Some  day  shall  end  his  guilty  reign  ; 
The  same  foul  means  that  work'd  his 

gain 
Shall  make  him  render  it  again. 


"  A  cup,  a  cup,  to  bless  this  day ! 
A  cup,  a  cup,  I  '11  bathe  in  wine — " 
See  Julius'  aged  fson  incline — 
One  generous  joy  he  dares  to  steal 
And   keep   his   eyes    awhile  from— 

meal. 
He  rends  the  welkin  with  applause 
And  chants  full  Pasans  in  so  just  a 

cause. 


The  new  statesman,  however,  was  quite  equal  to  his  own  defence  ;  and  to 
convince  his  friends,  that  their  interference  was  unnecessary,  he  records  some 
childish  traits  of  himself:  many  were  the  cheats,  says  he,  I  put  upon  the 
cooks.  Look,  boys,  yonder,  I  was  wont  to  say ;  the  spring  's  at  hand,  for 
yonder  is  the  swallow.:^:     They  gap'd  and  gaz'd,  while  I,  meantime,  made 

•  Cratinus  and  Morsimus  were  two  dramatic  rivals  of  Aristophanes.  The  ob- 
jection which  Cleon  professes  to  being  one  of  the  pillows  of  the  former,  relates  to  a 
little  piece  of  private  history,  from  which  the  audience  were  led  to  infer,  that  intem- 
perance had  produced  certain  infirmities  in  the  old  bard,  and  that  the  fleeces,  or 
whatever  else  supported  him  at  table,  were  frequently  sufierers  by  its  eflTects. 

I  The  person  here  satirized,  according  to  the  Scholiast,  supplied  the  Prytaneum 
or  Public  Hall  with  bread,  and  kept  a  vigilant  eye  that  he  was  not  defrauded  in  his 
dealings.  Casaubon  is  unwilling  to  let  him  off"  so  cheaply,  and  adds  to  his  offences, 
that  he  had  turned  a  great  dearth  of  corn  in  Athens  to  his  private  advantage. 

+  The  swallow,  as  the  harbinger  of  spring,  was  a  favourite  bird  among  the  Greeks  ; 
his  first  appearance  made  a  holiday  for  the  Greek  boys,  and  a  song  has  been  preserved 
in  Athenaeus,  (lib.  viii.  p.  360.)  by  which  the  little  mendicants  used  to  levy  contri- 
butions on  the  goodnature  of  their  fellow  citizens. 

The  swallow,  the  swallow  has  burst  on     Or  our  strength  shall  be  tried 


the  sight. 

He  brings  us  gay  seasons  of  vernal  de- 
light; 

His  back  it  is  sable,  his  belly  is  white. 

Can  your  pantry  nought  spare, 

That  his  palate  may  please, 

A  fig — or  a  pear — 

Or  a  slice  of  rich  cheese  1 

Mark,  he  bars  all  delay : 

At  a  word,  my  friend,  say, 

Is  it  yes, — is  it  nay  1 

Do  we  go  T — do  we  stay  T — 

One  gift  and  we  're  gone : 

Refuse,  and  anon 

On  your  gate  and  your  door 

All  our  fury  we  pour. 


On  your  sweet  little  bride ; 

From  ber  seat  we  will  tear  her: 

From  her  home  we  will  bear  her: 

She  is  light,  and  will  ask 

But  small  hands  to  the  task. — 

Let  your  bounty  then  lift 

A  small  aid  to  our  mirth; 

And  whatever  the  gift, 

Let  its  size  speak  its  worth. 

The  swallow,  the  swallow 

Upon  you  doth  wait : 

An  almsman  and  suppliant 

He  stands  at  your  gate  : 

Set  open,  set  open 

Your  gate  and  your  door ; 

Neither  giants  nor  greybeards, 

We  your  bounty  implore. 


112  THE  knights; 

booty.  In  general,  continues  he,  these  tricks  of  mine  escap'd  observation : 
and  what  if  any  one  took  note  1  it  was  but  hiding  the  prize  awhile,  and  making 
solemn  oath  that  I  knew  nothing  of  the  theft,  and  all  was  well.  My  dexterity 
■was  observed  by  one  of  our  public  orators,  and  it  cannot  be,  said  the  gentle- 
man, with  a  prophetic  air,  but  this  boy  will  one  day  have  charge  of  the  public 
purse.  The  storm  of  language  now  takes  another  direction,  and  is  carried  on 
almost  entirely  in  nautical  terms.  Cleon  declares  that  his  opponent  has  robbed 
the  Athenians  of  many  a  talent.  To  add  to  the  pleasantry  of  laying  such  a 
charge  upon  a  man  who  possessed  nothing  but  his  knife  and  his  chopping 
block,  Cleon  confirms  the  accusation  by  an  oath,  which  the  Greeks  reckoned 
the  most  solemn  of  all ; — he  swears  by  the  mysterious  name  of  Ceres.  The 
Chorus  affect  some  terror  at  this  accusation  :  let  go  your  rope,  say  they  to 
their  friend,  and  drive  before  the  wind ;  it  is  the  wind  Caesias  (a  violent 
stormy  wind)  and  blows  up  calumnies.  Cleon  follows  his  blow  with  assert- 
ing that  the  sausage-vender,  to  his  certain  knowledge,  had  received  ten  talents 
from  Potidaea.  "  Will  you  take  one  of  them,"  says  his  rival,  "  and  hold 
your  tongue  about  the  matter  ]"  That  he  will  most  gladly,  says  the  Chorus  : 
see,  the  wind  is  going  down  already.     Cleon  continues  his  threats. 

Cleon.  Four  charges  have  I  'gainst  you,  and  in  each 
Assess  the  damage  at  a  *hundred  talents. 

Saus.  I  've  twenty  'gainst  yourself,  and  twice  five  hundred  ; 
The  twenty  are  for  absence  and  desertion — 
The  thousand  note  your  shameless  peculations. 

Cleon.  Your  birth  derives  from  those,  whose  hands  profan'd — 
Most  execrable  they  ! — the  goddess'  temple. f 

Saus.  Your  grandsire  rank'd  among  the  satellites — 

Cleon.  Of  whom  ? 

Saus.  Of  Hippias'  consort,  fairest — Byrsine.:}: 

If  the  reader  should  think  that  the  abuse  of  this  pair  has  reached  its  climax, 
he  has  yet  to  learn  the  perseverance  and  extent  of  Grecian  invective — the  two 
rivals  compass  half  the  circle  of  Grecian  science  for  terms  of  reproach,  before 
they  conclude  ; — the  builder's  art,  the  powers  of  the  nail  and  the  hammer,  the 

•  In  trials  at  Athens,  the  plaintiff  stated  not  only  the  offence  committed,  but  the 
punishment  and  extent  of  punishment  which  he  thought  due  to  it. 

+  An  occurrence  in  Grecian  history  is  here  alluded  to,  which  happened  about  a 
century  before  the  performance  of  this  play.  Some  partizans  of  Cylon,  who  had 
aspired  to  the  sovereignty  of  Athens,  had  been  taken  from  the  altars  of  Minerva,  and 
under  the  direction  of  Megacles,  the  archon,  put  to  death.  For  this  sacrilege,  the 
whole  family  of  the  Megacleidse,  with  all  their  descendants,  were  declared  to  be  for 
ever  execrable.  The  Spartans,  at  the  commencement  of  the  Peloponnesian  war, 
attempted  to  make  use  of  this  occurrence  against  Pericles,  who  by  the  mother's 
side  was  descended  from  Megacles.  Thucyd.  1.  i.  c.  126.  127.  Plut.  Life  of 
Pericles. 

■^  The  wife  of  Hippias  was  named  Myrrhine :  the  poet  changes  the  name  into 
Byrsine,  in  order  to  raise  a  laugh  at  the  former  trade  and  occupation  of  Cleon.  The 
English  reader  will  sometimes  entertain  no  very  exalted  idea  of  Grecian  wit ;  and 
this  is  one  passage  among  many  others,  where  a  translator  of  Aristophanes  must 
feel  himself  upon  very  unsteady  ground. 


OR   THE    DEMAGOGUES.  113 

glue  pot,  the  carpenter's  yard,  the  art  of  running  and  casting  metal,  the  crafts 
of  the  founder,  the  brazier,  the  cheesemonger,  and  the  currier,  all  furnish 
terms,  which  render  their  sarcasms  more  poignant,  and  alternately  turn  the 
tide  of  victory.  The  storm  is  indeed  kept  up  so  loudly  and  incessantly,  that 
Cleon  is  fain  to  throw  himself  upon  the  senate,  and  challenges  his  rival  to 
meet  him  at  that  awful  bar.  His  antagonist  professes  his  readiness  to  do  so : 
the  Chorus,  considering  him  as  one  of  the  combatants  who  were  going  to  ex- 
hibit in  the  wrestling  school,  anoint  his  body  with  the  fat  of  his  own  sausages, 
that  he  "  may  slip  from  his  adversary's  calumnies;"  they  feed  him  like  a  fight- 
ing cock  with  pungent  garlic ;  they  remind  him  (in  allusion  to  the  combats  of 
the  same  bird)  to  peck  at  his  adversary, — to  tread  him  down, — to  gnaw  his 
crest, — and  swallow  his  gills;  and  they  finally  recommend  him  to  the  protec- 
tion of  that  divinity,  which,  in  modern  times,  would,  under  the  same  mytho- 
logy, have  presided  over  the  Palais  Royal  of  Paris  and  the  Piazza  di  Marco 
of  Venice. 

May  the  spirit  that  's  in  me  direct  thee; 
And  Jove  of  the  Market  protect  thee ; 
May  the  pride  of  my  blessing  erect  thee 

To  efforts  and  enterprise  glorious ; 
And  when  next  you  're  descried, 
May  it  be  in  the  pride 

Of  conquest  and  valour  victorious.  [^Exit  Suusagc-vemkr. 

To  a  much  harder  task  (^turning  to  the  audience') 
I  am  bent,  while  I  ask 
A  hearing  from  those, 
Who  in  verse  and  in  prose 

For  their  tact  and  their  skill  are  notorious. 

Parabasis." 
Were  it  one  of  that  jold  school,  learned  sirs,  who  long  the  rule 

and  the  tone  to  our  drama  have  given. 
Who  his  lessons  and  his  verse  having  :j:taught  us  to  rehearse, 

Avould  before  this  high  presence  have  driven; 

*  When  a  writer  at  Athens  had  completed  a  dramatic  work,  he  generally  put  it 
into  the  hands  of  one  of  those  wealthy  persons  who  either  voluntarily  undertook,  or 
by  compulsion  of  the  law  were  enjoined,  to  defray  the  expenses  of  the  choral  and 
theatrical  exhibitions.  This  was  called  ^igov  cutuv.  Aristophanes  explains  why 
he  bad  been  backward  in  complying  with  this  established  custom.  The  parabasis 
itself  displays  a  feeling  of  ingratitude  in  the  Athenians,  which  excites  as  much  indig- 
nation, as  the  courage,  with  which  it  is  here  exposed,  demands  applause. 

■\  The  more  immediate  precursors  of  Aristophanes  on  the  comic  stage  were 
Chionidcs,  Magnes,  and  Deinolochus.  Nothing  of  their  works  has  come  down  to  us 
but  the  titles  of  some  of  them. 

%  From  the  qualitj'  of  their  writing  materials,  the  Greeks  had  not  the  convenience 
of  copj-ing  their  compositions  with  facility:  the  parts,  therefore,  of  a  drama  were 
studied  from  the  repeated  delivery  of  the  poet,  and  the  Chorus  exercised  in  the  same 
manner.  This  was  called  teaching  a  piece.  In  tragedy,  (and  most  probably  in 
comedy,)  not  merely  the  poetry,  but  the  musical  accompaniment,  the  scenical  deco- 
15 


114  THE  knights; 

'T  is  great  chance  that  his  request,  however  warmly  prest, 

might  have  met  with  no  easy  compliance: — 
But  indulgent  we  have  heard  the  petitions  of  a  bard 

of  new  mettle  and  noblest  appliance. 
And  well  may  he  command  aid  and  service  at  our  hand  ; 

for  his  hatreds  and  ours  closely  blending 
Into  one  concurring  point  leap,  and  hand  and  heart  and  joint 

to  the  same  noble  object  are  tending. 
He  no  shade  nor  shelter  seeks; — what  he  thinks  he  boldly  speaks; — 

neither  skirmish  nor  conflict  declining, 
He  marches  all  elate  'gainst  that  Typhon  of  the  state, 

storm  and  hurricane  and  tempest  combining. 
Marvel  much  we  hear  has  grown,  and  inquiries  through  the  town 

of  the  poet  have  been  most  unsparing, 
(With  submission  be  it  known  that  these  words  are  not  our  own, 

but  his  own  proper  speech  and  declaring,) 
Why  his  dramas  hitherto  came  not  forward  as  was  due, 

their  own  proper  Choregus*  obtaining; 
Take  us  with  you,  sirs,  awhile  and  a  moment's  easy  toil 

will  in  brief  be  the  reason  explaining. 

ration  and  representation,  were  all  the  creation  of  the  poet.  The  player  was  a  mere 
tool,  and  his  excellence  consisted  in  the  accuracy  with  which  he  filled  up  his  part, 
and  by  no  means  in  arbitrary  bravura,  or  an  ostentatious  display  of  skill. — Schlegel. 
*  The  ofiice  of  Choregus,  or  Chorus  master,  was  both  honourable  and  expensive. 
Each  of  the  ten  tribes  furnished  one  annually,  and  his  business  was  to  defray  the 
expenses  of  the  scenical  representations  and  those  of  the  solemn  festivals.  If  the 
tribe  were  too  poor  to  provide  a  choregus,  the  expense  fell  upon  the  state.  Some- 
times the  charge  was  divided  between  two  persons ;  sometimes  the  choregus  of  one 
tribe  was  allowed  to  conduct  the  Chorus  of  another  tribe.  The  choregus  was  by 
law  to  be  at  least  forty  years  of  age :  upon  him  rested  the  choice  of  the  persons  com- 
posing the  Choucs;  and  they  were  generally  taken  from  the  youth  of  the  tribe  to 
which  he  belonged.  A  good  flute  player,  to  modulate  their  voices,  and  a  skilful 
dancing  master,  to  regulate  their  steps  and  gestures,  would  naturally  be  among  the 
chief  objects  of  his  research.  Some  months  before  the  approach  of  the  festivals,  the 
Chorus  and  actors  began  to  be  practised  in  their  performance :  the  choregus  fre- 
quently maintaining  them  during  the  whole  of  that  time  in  his  own  house,  that  they 
might  never  be  out  of  his  view.  At  the  festivals  and  pompous  processions  he  ap- 
peared at  their  head,  adorned  with  a  gilt  crown  and  a  magnificent  robe.  But  it  was 
in  the  theatre  that  the  chief  contention  took  place  between  the  rival  choregi. 
Judges  were  solemnly  established,  and  a  prize  was  adjudged  to  the  Chorus,  which 
had  done  most  honour  to  the  republic.  Nothing  could  exceed  the  enthusiasm  with 
which  this  victory  was  sought  and  received.  The  prize  was  generally  a  tripod ;  and 
the  victorious  tribe  most  commonly  consecrated  it  in  the  street,  which  from  that  cus- 
tom was  called  the  street  of  tripods.  To  these  tripods  were  attached  notices  of  the 
tribe  which  had  gained  the  victory — of  the  archon  who  presided  at  the  festival — of 
the  citizen,  who,  under  the  name  of  choregus,  had  furnished  the  expenses  of  the 
company — of  the  poet  who  composed  the  verses — of  the  master  who  exercised  the 
Chorus,  and  the  musician  who  directed  the  songs  by  the  sound  of  his  flute.  The 
conquerors  of  the  Persians,  says  the  Abbe  Barthelemi,  thought  it  an  addition  to 


OR    THE    DEMAGOGUES.  115 

'T  was  no  folly  bred,  we  say,  this  distrust  and  cold  delay, 

but  a  sense  of  th'  extreme  application 
And  the  toil*  which  he  who  woos  in  our  town  the  Comic  Muse 

must  encounter  in  such  his  vocation. 
Suitors  many  (and  brisk  sparks,)  as  our  poet  oft  remarks, 

pay  her  court  and  profoundest  attention; 
But  of  all  that  love  and  burn,  very  few  meet  due  return: — 

this  observance  first  bred  apprehension. 
Then  your  tempers  quick — severe — ever  changing  with  the  year — - 

to  this  thought  added  fears  more  appalling, 
And  a  sense  of  those  disasters  which,  through  you  their  fickle  masters, 

old  age  on  your  poets  sees  falling. 
Could  it  'scape  observing  sight  what  was  Magnes'  wretched  plight, 

when  his  hairs  and  his  temples  were  hoary ; 
Yet  who  battled  with  more  zeal  or  more  trophies  left  to  tell 

of  his  former  achievements  and  glory? 
He  came  piping,f  dancing,  tapping, — fig-gnatting  and  wing-clapping, — 

frog-bcsmear'd  and  with  Lydian  grimaces: 
Yet  he  too  had  his  date,  nor  could  wit  nor  merit  great 

preserve  him,  unchanged,  in  your  graces. 
Youth  pass'd  brilliantly  and  bright ; — when  his  head  was  old  and  white, 

strange  reverse  and  hard  fortune  confronted  ; 
What  boots  taste  or  tact  forsooth,  if  they  've  lost  their  nicest  truth, 

or  a  wit  wheie  the  edge  has  grown  blunted  ! 
Who  Cratinus  may  forget  or  the  storm  of  whim  and  wit 

which  shook  theatres  under  his  guiding  ] 
When  Panegyric's  song  pour'd  her  flood  of  praise  along, 

who  but  he  on  the  top  wave  was  riding? 
Foe  nor  rival  might  him  meet;  plane:)^  and  oak  ta'en  by  the  feet 

did  him  instant  and  humble  prostration  ; 
For  his  step  was  as  the  tread  of  a  flood  that  leaves  its  bed, 

and  his  march  it  was  rude  desolation. 

their  celebrity  to  have  appeared  at  the  head  of  the  Cnonrs;  and  on  one  tripod  it 
might  be  seen  inscribed  "  The  tribe  Antiochis  gained  this  prize:  Aristeides  was  the 
chorus  master:  Archestratus  composed  the  piece."  On  another,  "Themistocles  was 
the  choregus:  the  tragedy  was  written  by  Phrynicus:  Adimantus  was  the  archon." 
Le  Jeune  Anach.  torn.  ii.  cc.  12.  24. 

*   See  Schlegel's  Lectures  on  Dramatic  Literature. 

j-  The  poet  alludes  in  his  peculiar  manner  to  the  titles  of  some  of  the  dramatic 
works  of  Magnes. 

t  There  is  some  allusion  here,  most  probably,  to  a  passage  in  one  of  the  plays  of 
Cratinus,  all  of  which  have  unfortunately  perished.  The  praise  bestowed  upon  the 
old  bard,  who  was  living  at  the  time  of  the  exhibition  of  the  Knights,  is  a  little 
equivocal  throughout,  and  at  last  ends  in  a  direct  reference  to  his  intemperance. 
Cratinus  lived  to  convince  his  youthful  rival,  that  his  powers  were  not  so  much  ex- 
hausted as  he  has  here  described  them  to  be.  A  play  presented  by  Cratinus  in  the 
following  year,  and  formed  to  meet  the  allusions  here  made  to  his  convivial  habits, 
gained  the  prize  against  the  most  elaborate  of  all  the  compositions  of  Aristophanea, 
the  farfiiined  Clouds. 


116  THE  knights; 

Who  but  he  the  foremost  guest  then  on  gala-day  and  feast? 

What  strain  fell  from  harp  or  musicians, 
But  "  Doro,*  Doro  sweet,  nymph  with  fig-beslipper'd  feet" — 

or — "  Ye  verse-smiths  and  bard-mechanicians." 
Thus  in  glory  was  he  seen,  while  his  years  as  yet  were  green ; 

but  now  that  his  dotage  is  on  him, 
God  help  him  !  for  no  eye,  of  all  those  who  pass  him  by, 

throws  a  look  of  compassion  upon  him. 
'T  is  a  couch,  but  with  the  loss  of  its  garnish  and  its  gloss ; — 

't  is  a  harp  that  hath  lost  all  its  cunning, — 
'T  is  a  pipe  where  deftest  hand  may  the  stops  no  more  command, 

nor  on  it  divisions  be  running, 
f  Connas-like,  he  's  chaplet-crown'd,  and  he  paces  round  and  round 

in  a  circle  which  never  is  ended  ; — 
On  his  head  a  chaplet  hangs,  but  the  curses  and  the  pangs 

of  a  drought  on  his  lips  are  suspended. 

0  if  ever  yet  on  bard  waited,  page-like,  high  Reward  : 

former  exploits  and  just  reputation. 
By  an  emphasis  of  right,  sure  had  earn'd  this  noble  wight 

in  the  Hall  a  most  constant — potation  ;:}: 
And  in  theatres  high  station  ;§  there  a  mark  for  Admiration 

to  anchor  her  aspect  and  face  on. 
In  his  honour  he  should  sit,  nor  serve  triflers  in  the  pit 

As  an  object  their  rude  jests  to  pass  on. 

1  spare  myself  the  toil  to  record  the  buffets  vile, 

the  affronts  and  the  contumelies  hateful. 
Which  on  ||Crates  frequent  fell,  yet  I  dare  you,  sirs,  to  tell, 

where  was  caterer  more  pleasing  or  grateful  1  ^ 

*  Two  celebrated  songs  of  Cratinus  began  in  this  manner.  The  first  appears  to 
have  been  a  satire  upon  the  corruption  of  the  magistrates;  and  those  who  at- 
tend to  the  note  upon  sycophancy,  in  the  comedy  of  the  Acharnians,  will  be  at  no 
loss  to  understand  the  epithet  which  is  here  joined  with  the  imaginary  nymph,  who 
stands  for  the  personification  of  corruption.  The  latter  song  appears  to  have  been 
aimed  at  some  of  the  poet's  contemporaries,  who  wrote  more  from  mechanical  rules 
than  the  fervour  of  a  poetical  spirit. 

■|-  Connas  was  a  flute-player,  and  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  Connus,  the  pre- 
ceptor of  Socrates  in  harp  music.  Vid.  Plat,  in  Euthydemo,  et  Menexeno.  From 
a  fragment  of  Cratinus,  Connas  appears  to  have  made  himself  a  little  conspicuous  by 
constantly  wearing  a  chaplet  on  his  head. 

+  A  pleasantry  by  surprise.  The  poet  should  have  said  dinner:  the  change  is 
made,  in  allusion  to  the  intemperance  of  Cratinus.  In  general  this  species  of  wit,  in 
which  Aristophanes  indulges  very  largely,  has  more  humour  in  the  original  than  a 
translation  can  give ;  because  there  the  words  are  nearly  similar  in  sound. 

§  There  were  distinct  seats  in  the  theatre;  but  the  most  commodious  and  honour- 
able places  were  those  near  the  images  of  the  gods,  which  were  placed  on  the  stage. 
—  Casaubon. 

II  Crates  was  first  an  actor,  and  afterwards  a  writer  of  the  Old  Comedy :  he  per- 
formed the  principal  characters  in  Cratinus's  plays,  and  was  the  great  rival  of  Aris- 
tophanes's  favourite  actors  Callistratus  and  Philonides.     He  is  said  to  have  been  the 


OR   THE    DEMAGOGUES.  117 

Who  knew  better  how  to  lay  soup  piquant  and  entremets, 

dainty  patties  and  little  side  dishes  1 
Where  with  all  your  bards  a  Muse  cook'd  more  delicate  ragouts 

or  hash'd  sentiment  so  to  your  wishes  ? 
Princely  cost  nor  revenue  ask'd  his  banquets  it  is  true ; 

yet  he  is  the  only  stage  master, 
Through  all  changes  and  all  chances,  who  undaunted  still  advances, 

alike  master  of  success  and  disaster. 
Sirs,  ye  need  no  more  to  hear — ye  know  whence  the  hue  of  fear 

o'er  our  bard's  cheek  of  enterprise  stealing, 
And  why  like  wiser  men,  who  look  forward  in  their  ken, 

in  proverbs  he  's  wont  to  be  dealing; 
Saying — better  first  explore  what  the  powers  of  scull  and  oar, 

ere  the  helm  and  the  rudder  you  're  trying ; 
At  the  *prow  next  take  your  turn,  there  the  mysteries  to  learn 

of  the  scud  and  the  winds  that  are  flying. 
This  mastery  attain'd,  time  it  is  a  skiff  were  gain'd, 

and  your  f  pilotage  put  to  the  trial : — 
Thus  with  caution  and  due  heed  step  by  step  would  he  proceed 

in  a  course  that  should  challengre  denial. 


first  who  introduced  a  drunken  character  on  the  Athenian  stage.  The  following 
fragment  on  Old  Age,  translated  by  the  learned  author  of  the  Observer,  is  almost  all 
that  remains  of  the  works  of  Crates. 

These  shrivell'd  sinews  and  this  bending  frame 

The  workmanship  of  Time's  strong  hand  proclaim. 

Skill'd  to  reverse  whate'er  the  gods  create. 

And  make  that  crooked  which  they  fashion  straight. 

Hard  choice  for  men  to  die — or  else  to  be 

That  tottering,  wretched,  wrinkled  thing  you  see ! 

Age  then  we  all  prefer ;  for  age  we  pray, 

And  travel  on  to  life's  last  lingering  day ; 

Then  sinking  slowly  down  from  worse  to  worse, 

Find  heaven's  extorted  boon  our  greatest  curse. 

*  The  Trgaga/c,  says  Archbishop  Potter,  was  next  under  the  master:  to  his  care 
was  committed  the  tackling  of  the  ship,  and  the  rowers  had  their  places  assigned  by 
him.     He  also  assisted  the  master  at  consultations. —  Grec.  Ant.  v.  ii.  p.  146. 

■j-  The  pilot,  says  the  same  learned  writer,  held  a  much  higher  rank  in  the  Greek 
navy  than  in  ours.  He  had  the  care  of  the  ship  and  government  of  the  seamen,  and 
sat  at  the  stern  to  steer;  all  things  were  managed  according  to  his  direction:  it  was 
therefore  necessary  that  he  should  have  obtained  an  exact  knowledge  of  the  art  of 
navigation,  which  consisted  chiefly  in  three  things:  1.  In  the  right  management  of 
the  rudder,  sails,  and  all  the  engines  used  in  navigation :  2.  In  the  knowledge  of  the 
winds  and  celestial  bodies,  their  motions  and  influences :  3.  In  the  knowledge  of 
commodious  harbours,  rocks,  quicksands,  and  other  occurrences  on  the  sea. — Idem, 
p.  144.  A  still  more  important  part  of  his  duty,  the  direction  of  the  diecplus,  which 
so  often  decided  the  naval  engagements  of  the  ancients,  has  been  omitted  by  the 
learned  archbishop. 


118  THE  knights; 

Nor  let  it  breed  offence,  if  for  such  befitting  sense 

and  so  modest  a  carriage  and  bearing, 
We  ask  some  mark  of  state  on  its  author  here  to  wait; — 

guard  of  honour,*  procession,  or  chairing  : — 
With  a  shout  of  such  cheering  Your  bard  shall  depart 

As  Bacchus  is  hearing,  With  a  rapture-touch'd  heart. 

When  vats  overflowing  While  Triumph  shall  throw 

Set  Mirth  all  a-crowing,  O'er  his  cheeks  such  a  glow. 

And  Joy  and  Wine  meet  That  Pleasure  might  trace 

Hand  in  hand  in  each  street.  Her  own  self  in  his  face. 

So  his  purpose  attained 
And  the  victory  gain'd, 

Semi-Chorus. 

Choral  Hymn. 
Lord  of  the  Waters!  king  of  might,       Lord  of  the  dolphins  and  the  spear — 
Whose  eyes  and  ears  take  stern  delight     :j:Geroestian — Sunian — or  more  dear, 
From  neighing  steeds  and  stormy  fight     If  Cronus'  name  salute  thy  ear. 

And  galley  swift  pursuing ;  And  §Phormion's  gallant  daring; 

From  starling  car  and  chariot  gay,  O  come  amongst  us  in  thy  power. 

And  contests  on  that  festive  day,  Great  Neptune;  in  her  trying  hour 

When  Athens'  sprightly  youth  display  Athens  knows  none  so  swift  to  shower 
Their  pride  and  their — undoing  ;f  Aids  of  immortal  bearing. 

Full  Chorus. 
Praise  and  homage  let  us  pay  Plants  of  an  eternal  spring, 

To  the  men  of  elder  day:  Born  for  endless  blossoming.[| 

They  alone  of  this  our  earth  Foot  or  horse — by  land  or  sea 

Ne'er  impeach'd  their  noble  birth:  Still  they  reach'd  at  victory; 


•  The  ancient  guard  of  honour  diifered  much  from  a  modern  one,  being  composed 
of  ships  and  not  of  soldiers.  According  to  Cassaubon,  the  complement  was  eleven 
ships,  or  a  man  of  war  with  eleven  oars  on  each  side. 

+  The  poet  ridicules' the  young  men  of  fashion,  who  ruined  themselves  by  run- 
ning chariots  at  the  public  games. 

^  Epithets  of  Neptune,  derived  from  Geraestus,  a  port  in  Euboea,  and  Sunium, 
the  famous  promontorj"  in  Attica. 

§  For  the  achievements  of  this  able  and  active  officer  see  Thucydides,  lib.  ii. 

11  Literally,  -worthy  to  be  described  on  the  peplus.  The  peplus  was  that  superb 
veil  displayed  in  the  magnificent  festival  of  the  Panathensea.  The  first  artists  in 
Athens  furnished  the  designs  for  this  splendid  piece  of  embroidery,  and  the  young 
ladies,  most  distinguished  for  their  skill,  executed  the  needlework.  Various  subjects 
were  represented  on  it,  but  the  combat  of  the  gods  and  the  giants  always  formed 
one.  In  the  corners  of  this  magnificent  embroidery  were  sometimes  depictured  the 
heroes  and  great  men  of  Athens ;  and  the  most  aspiring  of  her  citizens  considered 
this  distinction  as  the  summit  of  all  human  honours. 


OR    THE    DEMAGOGUES. 


119 


Raising  high  by  generous  toil 

The  splendour  of  their  native  soil. 

When  they  saw  their  foemen  bold, 

They  their  numbers  never  told; 

Ready  swords  and  valour  high 

Were  a  helpmate  ever  nigh. 

If  upon  the  arm  they  fell ; 

'T  was  but  a  *brush,  and  all  was  well ; 

Rising  quick,  they  dealt  a  wound. 

As  they  had  never  touch'd  the  ground. 

Never  then  did  general, 

Though  ambitious  of  the  fHall, 

Pay  the  tribute  of  his  knee, 

To  ijiCJaEnctus  that  he 

Miffht  his  commons  eet  cost-free. 


Rank§  and  banquet  now  men  ask. 
Or  they  spurn  the  soldier's  task. 
Not  so  we,  sirs ;  we  '11  still  wear 
Athens'  wrongs  upon  our  spear; 
And  the  best  blood  in  our  breast 
Free  shall  flow  at  her  behest. — 
Nor  for  this  our  patriot  flame 
Other  payment  will  wo  claim. 
Than  when  Peace  resumes  her  sway 
(Nor  far  distant  be  that  day  !) 
None  shall  taunt  reproachful  throw, 
That  our  locks||  too  trimly  flow, 
Nor  malignly  mark,  if  we 
With  the^  bath  and  brush  make  free. 


Choral  Hymn. 


O  thou,  whom  Patroness  we  call 
Of  this  the  holiest  land  of  all, 

That  circling  seas  admire; 
The  land  where   Power  delights  to 

dwell. 
And  War  his  mightiest  feats  can  tell. 
And  Poesy  to  sweetest  swell 

Attunes  her  voice  and  lyre; 


Come,  bluc-ey'd  Maid,  and  with  thee 

bring 
The  goddess  of  the  eagle  wing; 

To  help  our  bold  endeavour: 
Long  have  our  armies  own'd  thy  aid, 
O  Victory,  immortal  maid  ! 
Now  other  deeds  befits  thee  tell, 
A  bolder  foe  remains  to  quell ; 

Give  aid,  then,  now  or  never. 


Chorus. 
To  **chargers  and  steeds  mettle-proof  tunc  the  string: 
I  speak  from  self  knowledge  in  what  I  now  sing — 
In  fight  and  in  skirmish  and  battle  array. 
Their  aid  has  been  with  us  full  many  a  day. 


•  An  allusion  to  the  customs  of  the  palaestra  or  wrestling-school. 

■j-  The  Prytancuui. 

t  Clscnctus  was  the  author  of  a  law  which  limited  the  admissions  to  the  Pryta- 
ncum.  All  persons,  therefore,  who  were  ambitious  of  this  honourable  distinction, 
took  care  to  pay  their  court  previously  to  him. 

§  Precedence  at  religious  ceremonies  and  the  public  spectacles  is  the  species  of 
rank  more  particularly  intimated  here. 

II  There  was  a  law  provided  against  soldiers  observing  too  much  foppery  in  the 
arrangement  of  their  hair. 

t  The  Greeks,  as  well  as  the  Romans,  indulged  very  freely  in  the  luxur}'  of  the 
bath ;  but  it  was  considered  a  mark  of  effeminacy  to  visit  the  bath  too  often ;  and  I 
believe  there  was  an  express  law  against  the  Knights  thus  ofl'ending. 

**  The  learned  Casaubon  imagines  that  the  poet  here  satirizes  the  knights  for  the 
immoderate  attention  they  paid  to  their  steeds.  It  was  more  probably  intended  as  a 
compliment  to  the  Knights  for  a  service  which  will  be  presently  mentioned;  and  in- 


120  THE  knights; 

But  their  feats  and  achievements  by  land  I  shall  pass : 

The  marvel*  and  show  and  the  bravery  was, 

When  in  naval  array  and  equipt  like  a  crew 

Of  tars  thorouorhbred,  to  the  transports  they  flew. 

Their  cabins  withf  garlic  and  onions  were  stor'd  ; 

Their  cans  (cheaply  bought)  were  laid  duly  on  board. 

They  grasp'd  their  green  oars,  and  like  boatmen  did  ply. 

And  "  iJlHippapae,  Ryppapae,  boys !"  was  the  cry; 

"  Bear  a  hand,  my  brave§  Koppa, — Samphor,  lad,  pull  away, 

(The  command  came  enforc'd  twixt  a  shout  and  a  neigh,) 

Do  your  work,  or  we  never  shall  compass  the  land." — 

The  very  word  brought  them  to  Corinth's  proud |[  strand. 

They  landed ; — and  who  had  young  blood  in  their  veins 

With  their  hoofs  beat  a  bed  up :  but  the  clothes  ask'd  more  pains. 

Their  food  was  young  pungers ;  and  he  who  was  cast 

By  good  luck  on  a  crab,  held  a  princely  repast. 

The  best  grass  was  but  dull  to  't — and  hence  the  bon-mot, 

(Whether  true,  sirs,  or  false,  best  ^Theorus  can  show,) 

geniously  paid  through  that  medium,  which  every  Knight  holds  most  dear.  Babieca, 
Frontino  and  Bayardo  are  almost  as  dear  to  the  readers  of  romance  as  Eodrigo,  Rug- 
giero  or  Rinaldo. 

*  The  first  instance  mentioned  by  Thucydidcs  of  Athenian  cavalry  being  trans- 
ported by  sea,  occurs  in  the  second  year  of  the  Peloponnesian  war.  Thucyd.  t.  ii. 
c.  56. 

■j-  The  construction  of  the  ancient  ships  of  war  rendered  it  absolutely  impo'ssible 
to  carry  much  provisions  on  board  :  and  the  crews,  therefore,  were  generally  debarked 
for  the  purposes  both  of  refreshment  and  sleep.  The  reader  of  Thucydides  is  often 
surprised  by  unexpected  events,  resulting  from  the  necessities  to  which  this  want  of 
accommodation  exposed  the  Grecian  fleets.  See,  among  other  instances,  1.  viii. 
c.  95. 

■^  Hippapx !  a  humorous  alteration  for  the  common  exhortatory  word  among 
Greek  sailors,  Ryppapx.  It  is  not  to  be  expected  that  naval  language  should  be 
very  harmonious.  \n  the  old  romance  of  Richard  Cceur  de  Lion,  that  valorous 
knight  orders  his  rowers  to  exert  themselves. 

"  Roweth  on  fast :  who  that  is  faint, 
In  evil  water  may  he  be  dreynt:" 
They  rowed  fast  and  sung  thereto 
With  lieveluxv  and  rumbeloo. 

§  Horses  were  thus  called,  who  were  marked  on  the  thigh  with  the  letter  K. 
Those  marked  with  an  S  were  called  SamphorfE. 

II  The  poet  alludes  to  an  expedition  recently  conducted  (Thucyd.  t.  iv.  c.  44.) 
under  Nicias  against  Corinth,  in  which  the  exertions  of  the  Knights  were  particu- 
larly conspicuous.  The  praise  is  bestowed  upon  the  horses ;  but  the  audience  rea- 
dily applied  the  panegyric. 

^  Two  persons  are  attacked  in  the  following  lines,  Carcinus  and  Thcorus.  Car- 
cinus  in  Greek  signifies  a  crab,  and  it  appears  that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  passing 
much  of  his  time  in  Corinth,  for  the  sake  of  the  gaieties  and  guilty  pleasures  of  that 
luxurious  and  splendid  town.  Theorus  and  Carcinus  had  both  some  way  or  other 
incurred  the  displeasures  of  the  Knights. 


OR   THE    DEMAGOGUES.  121 


Of  a  crab  on  the  spot, — '  By  the  lord  of  the  ocean, 
I  speak  to  my  soul's  inward  pain  and  commotion, 
Of  these  horses  and  horsemen  I  well  may  complain ; 
They  compass  the  land  and  they  fathom  the  main, 
And  escape  from  their  full  omnipresence  is  vain.' 


ACT  II. 

SCENE  I. 

Sausage-seller,  Chorus. 

The  anxiety  of  the  Chorus  is  relieved  at  the  end  of  this  Intermede  by  the 
reentrance  of  the  Sausage-seller;  and  the  *name  which  he  assumes  to  him- 
self, is  sufficient  at  once  to  convince  them  that  his  exertions  in  the  fSenate 

*  In  allusion  to  the  common  termination  of  Athenian  names,  Thrasybulus,  Neo- 
bulus,  Critobulus,  etc.,  he  tells  them  that  he  has  returned  a  Nicobulus  (victor  in  the 
senate)  to  them. 

f  A  succinct  account  of  this  branch  of  the  Athenian  polity  may  not  perhaps  be 
unacceptable  to  the  reader.  The  Athenian  Senate  consisted  of  five  hundred  mem- 
bers :  i.  e.,  fifty  from  each  of  the  ten  tribes.  It  was  elected  every  year,  and  each 
member's  life  and  character  underwent  a  strict  examination,  before  he  was  admitted 
into  this  dignified  body.  To  fill  up  vacancies  and  deaths,  each  tribe  furnished  a 
subsidiary  body  of  fifty  members.  The  Attic  year  was  divided  into  ten  parts;  and 
thus  each  tribe  had  in  turn  the  oflice  of  presiding  in  the  Senate.  The  tribe,  to 
whose  turn  it  fell  in  succession,  was  called  for  the  time  the  Prytanes ;  and  during 
that  period,  they  were  excused  from  all  other  public  duties.  In  this  work  the  word 
Prytanes  has  been  generally  rendered  by  the  word  Chairmen.  To  avoid  confusion, 
every  Prytaneia  (or  company  of  Prytanes)  was  divided  into  five  weeks  of  days,  by 
which  means  the  fifty  Prytanes  were  subdivided  into  five  Decuriae  ;  each  Decuria 
having  charge  of  the  government  for  a  week.  During  this  period  of  oflice,  they 
assumed  the  name  of  Proedri :  out  of  these  one  was  elected  by  lot  to  preside  over 
the  rest,  in  each  of  the  seven  days :  so  that  of  the  ten  Proedri,  three  were  necessarily 
excluded  from  presiding.  The  President  of  the  Proedri  was  called  Epistates.  To 
his  custody  were  committed  the  public  seal,  and  the  keys  of  the  Citadel  and  the 
public  Exchequer.  It  was  an  important  trust,  and  therefore  no  man  was  permitted 
by  the  law  to  hold  it  more  than  one  day,  nor  to  be  elected  into  it  a  second  time.  As 
character  and  not  fortune  constituted  the  right  of  becoming  a  member  of  the  Senate, 
it  will  be  seen  that  the  poorest  man  in  Athens  had  the  chance  of  holding  the 
sovereign  power  one  day  at  least  in  the  year.  The  Senate  held  its  sittings  every 
day,  those  only  excepted  which  were  appropriated  to  the  public  festivals.  All  acts 
of  this  body,  whether  approved  by  the  Ecclesia  (i.  e.,  the  General  Assembly)  or  not, 
were  binding  for  the  year  they  were  in  oflice.  The  especial  duty  of  the  Senate  was 
to  correct  and  modify  such  decrees  as  were  to  be  submitted  to  the  General  Assembly, 
whose  ratification  alone  passed  them  into  j)crnianent  acts  of  the  legislature.  Hence 
the  bon-inot  of  Anacharsis  the  Scythian:  the  laws  of  Athens  are  discussed  by  sages, 
and  put  into  execution  liv  fools. 
16 


122  THE  knights; 

have  been  crowned  with  complete  success.  A  shout  of  acclamation  bursts 
from  that  friendly  body  at  this  welcome  intelligence ;  they  declare,  in  strong 
language,  how  desirous  they  are  to  hear  a  more  particular  account  of  his  ex- 
ertions; they  are  not  sure  but  they  would  even  take  a  long  journey  to  enjoy 
the  narration.  The  new  favourite  does  not  try  their  resolution  on  this  point, 
but  proceeds  immediately  to  gratify  their  wishes. 

And  trust  me,  friends,  the  tale  will  pay  the  hearing — 
Straight  as  he  went  from  hence,  I  clapt  all  sail 
And  followed  close  behind.     Within  I  found  him 
Launching  his  bolts  and  thunder-driving  words, 
Denouncing  all  the  Knights,  as  traitors,  vile 
Conspirators — jags,  crags  and  masses  huge 
Of  stone  were  nothing  to  the  monstrous  words 
His  foaming  mouth  heav'd  up.    All  these  to  hear 
Did  the  grave  Council  seriously  incline; 
They  love  a  tale  of  scandal  to  their  hearts, 
And  his  had  been  as  quick  in  birth  as  golden  herb. 
Mustard  was  in  their  faces,  and  their  brows 
With  frowns  w^ere  furrow'd  up.     I  saw  the  storm, 
Mark'd  how  his  words  had  sunk  upon  them,  taking 
Their  very  senses  prisoners : — and,  oh ! 
In  knavery's  name,  thought  I, — by  all  the  fools 
And  scrubs  and  rogues  and  scoundrels  in  the  town, — 
By  that  same  forum,  where  my  early  youth 
Received  its  first  instruction,  let  me  gather 
True  courage  now:  be  oil  upon  my  tongue. 
And  shameless  Impudence  direct  my  speech- 
Just  as  these  thoughts  pass'd  over  me,  I  heard 
A  sound  of  thunder  pealing  on  my  right — 
I  mark'd  the  omen, — grateful,  kiss'd  the  ground — 
And  pushing  briskly  thro'  the  *lattice  work — 
Rais'd  my  voice  to  its  highest  pitch,  and  thus 
Began  upon  them — "  Messieurs  of  the  Senate, 
I  bring  good  news,  and  hope  your  favour  for  it. 
Anchovies,  such  as  since  the  war  began, 
Ne'er  cross'd  my  eyes  for  cheapness,  do  this  day 
Adorn  our  markets" — at  the  words  a  calm 
Came  over  every  face,  and  all  was  hush'd — 
A  f  crown  was  voted  me  upon  the  spot. 
Then  I  (the  thought  was  of  the  moment's  birth) 
Making  a  mighty  secret  of  it,  bade  them 
Put  pots  and  pans  in  instant  requisition, 
And  then — one  obol  loads  you  with  anchovies, 

*  To  keep  the  crowds  from  thronging  in,  the  places  of  public  meeting  were  sur- 
rounded with  a  rope,  and  sergeants  appointed  to  keep  the  doors. 

f  A  crown  or  chaplet  was  a  reward  usually  conferred  upon  such  persons  as,  by 
the  annunciation  of  good  news,  gained  the  momentary  affections  of  the  Athenians. 


OR   THE    DEMAGOGUES.  123 

Said  I:  anon  most  violent  applause, 

And  clapping  hands  ensued ;  and  every  face 

Grew  unto  mine,  gaping  in  idiot  vacancy. 

My  Paphlagonian  discern'd  the  humour 

O'  the  time ;  and  seeing  how  the  members  all 

Were  tickled  most  with  words,  thus  utter'd  him  : 

"  Sirs — Gentlemen — 't  is  my  good  will  and  pleasure, 

That  for  this  kindly  news  we  sacrifice 

One  hundred*  oxen  to  our  patron-goddess." 

Straight  the  tide  turn'd :  each  head  within  the  Senate 

Nodded  assent  and  warm  goodwill  to  Cleon  : 

"  What!  shall  a  little  bull  flesh  gain  the  day]" 

Thought  I  within  me:  then  aloud,  and  shooting 

Beyond  his  mark: — "1  double,  sirs,  this  vote, — 

Nay  more,  sirs,  should  tomorrow's  sun  see  sprats 

One  hundred  to  the  penny  sold,  I  move 

That  we  make  offering  of  a  thousand  goats 

Unto  Diana." — Every  head  was  raised; 

And  all  turn'd  eyes  incontinent  on  me. 

This  was  a  blow  he  ne'er  recover'd :  straight 

He  fell  to  muttering  fooleries  and  words 

Of  no  account — the  chairman  and  the  oflicers 

Were  now  upon  him. — All,  meantime,  was  uproar 

In  th'  Assembly — Nought  talkM  of  but  anchovies. — 

How  far'd  our  statesman!  he  with  suppliant  tones 

Begg'd  a  few  moments'  pause. — "  Rest  ye,  sirs,  rest  ye 

Awhile — I  have  a  tale  will  pay  the  hearing — 

A  herald  is  arriv'd  from  Sparta,  claiming 

An  audience — he  brings  terms  of  peace,  and  craves 

Your  leave  to  utter  them  before  yc."     "  Peace  !" 

Cried  all,  (their  voices  one)  "  is  this  a  time 

To  talk  of  peace  ] — out,  dotard  !     What,  the  rogues 

Have  heard  the  price  anchovies  bear ! — marry 

Our  needs,  sir,  ask  not  peace. — War,  war,  for  us — 

And,  chairmen,  break  the  assembly  up."     'T  was  done. 

Upon  their  bidding,  straight — who  might  oppose 

Such  clamour"? — then,  what  haste  and  expedition 

On  every  side  !  one  moment  clears  the  rails  ! 

I,  the  meantime,  steal  privately  away 

And  buy  me  all  the  leeks  and  coriander 

In -the  market — these  I  straight  make  largess  of, 

•  When  the  Athenian  people  were  to  be  cajoled,  a  feast  or  sacrifice  (and  they 
were  nearly  synonymous  terms,  for  a  small  portion  only  of  the  victim  was  oft'ered  to 
the  gods)  was  the  surest  and  most  elTectual  mode.  It  was  thus  that  the  abandoned 
Chares  maintained  himself  in  office;  who,  from  his  share  of  the  plunder  made  from 
the  temple  of  Delphi,  once  feasted  the  whole  people  of  Athens.  (Ath.  1.  xii.  p.  533.) 
It  is  curious  that  the  only  interpolations  made  by  the  thirty  tyrants  in  the  MS,  laws 
of  Solon,  were  directed  in  the  same  way  to  the  gratification  of  Athenian  appetite. 
(Oratio  livsise  contra  Nicomachum.) 


124  THE  knights; 

And  gratis  give  as  sauce  to  dress  their  fish. 

Who  may  recount  the  praises  infinite 

And  groomlike  courtesies  this  bounty  gain'd  me ! 

In  short  you  see  a  man,  that  for  one  pennyworth 

Of  coriander  vile  has  purchas'd  him 

An  entire  senate — not  a  man  among  them 

But  is  at  my  behest  and  does  me  reverence.* 

It  will  readily  be  imagined  that  this  speech  elicits  a  song  of  applause  from 
the  delighted  Chorus. 

Chorus. 
Well,  my  son,  hast  thou  begun  and  well  hast  thou  competed  ; 
Rich  bliss  and  gain  wilt  thou  attain,  thy  mighty  task  completed. 
He,  thy  rival,  shall  admire.  In  all  crafts  and  tricks  that  be. 

Chok'd  with  passion,  pale  with  ire.        At  all  points  art  thou  equipt. 
Thy  audacity  and  fire:  Eye  and  tongue  with  treach'ry  tipt. 

He  shall  own,  abash'd,  in  thee  Soul  and  body,  both  are  dipt 

Power  and  peerless  mastery  In  deceit  and  knavery. 

Forward,  son  of  mine,  undaunted — complete  thy  bold  beginning : 
No  aid  from  me  shall  be  delay'd — which  may  the  prize  be  winning. 

*  Absurd  as  some  parts  of  the  above  narration  may  appear  to  an  English  reader, 
it  can  hardly  be  called  a  caricature  of  the  public  meetings  in  Athens.  Every  per- 
son, conversant  with  the  orators  and  historians  of  that  singular  republic,  has  occa- 
sionally met  with  instances  of  ridiculous  conduct,  which  hardly  fall  below  what  is 
here  represented :  he  has  seen  the  most  frivolous  circumstances  swelled  into  import- 
ance, and  the  most  important  trifled  with  in  her  noisy  and  crowded  assemblies.  The 
character  of  them  may  be  estimated  from  the  following  well  known  stories  among 
others.  When  Cleon  was  in  the  height  of  his  power  with  the  people,  (who  at  the 
same  time  idolized  and  despised  him,)  some  matter  of  importance  was  before  the 
Assembly;  the  people  had  met,  and  Cleon's  presence  was  impatiently  expected. 
His  tardiness  occasioned  strong  murmurs  of  disapprobation  ;  at  length  he  made  his 
appearance  :  he  rose  in  his  place,  and  addressing  the  people,  told  them  that  he  had 
some  strangers  to  entertain  at  his  table,  and  begged  that  the  meeting  might  be  de- 
ferred to  another  day.  The  people,  instead  of  resenting  this  impertinence,  started 
from  their  seats,  clapped  their  hands  violently  in  token  of  applause ;  and  the  orator 
was  in  greater  credit  than  ever.  The  Assembly,  one  day  in  later  times,  had  been 
thrown  into  a  violent  state  of  agitation  and  inquietude  by  the  account  of  some  hos- 
tilities committed  by  Philip  of  Macedon.  At  this  trying  moment  the  rostrum  was 
mounted  by  a  man  of  diminutive  stature  and  ill  made;  it  was  Leon,  the  ambassador 
from  Byzantium.  The  Assembly  broke  out  into  shouts  of  laughter.  Leon  could 
hardly  gain  a  moment's  attention.  "  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  at  length,  "  you  are 
pleased  to  be  merry  :  but  what  if  you  were  to  see  my  wife  ?  she  scarcely  reaches  my 
knee ;  and  yet,"  continued  he,  with  a  grave  face  and  pompous  tone  of  voice,  "  when 
a  dispute  takes  place  between  us,  little  as  we  are,  all  Byzantium  cannot  contain  us !" 
A  stroke  of  pleasantry  was  sure  to  succeed  at  Athens  :  the  mock  solemnity  of  Leon 
amused  the  Assembly  ;  and  the  succours  which  he  came  to  demand  were  instantly 
granted,  though  Philip's  proceeding  had  very  justly  created  no  small  degree  of  ap- 
prehension in  the  Athenian  people  for  their  own  safety. — See  Le  Jeune  Anacharsis- 
and  Crebillon's  Lettres  Athuiiennes. 


OR    THE    DEMAGOGUES.  125 

SCENE  II. 

Chorus,  Sausage-vender,  Cleon. 

The  Paphlagonian  returns  to  the  stage  at  the  conclusion  of  this  address  of 
the  Chorus.  He  enters,  "  pushing  a  maimed  wave  before  him,"  and  with  an 
air  as  if  he  could  "  drink  up"  his  victorious  opponent.  His  thundering  aspect 
and  his  menacing  words  are  equally'lost  upon  the  Sausage-vender,  who,  in  his 
own  language,  "  is  delighted  with  his  opponent's  threats — laughs  at  his  smoke- 
boast'ing — and  makes  the  fittest  answer  to  his  menaces  by  singing  the  mothon,* 
and  crying  cuckow  in  a  circle."  Another  scene  of  altercation  now  takes  place 
between  these  intellectual  gladiators ;  and  the  reader,  who  has  already  had  a 
specimen  of  Athenian  invective,  will  not  perhaps  be  eager  to  enter  into  the 
details  of  this  second  war  of  words.  Some  of  their  strokes,  however,  must 
not  be  omitted.  The  Sausage-vender  remarks  upon  his  adversary's  passion, 
and  asks  him  if  he  will  have  a  purse  to  eat  and  so  allay  his  wrath.  Cleon, 
after  a  volley  of  abuse,  threatens  to  bring  him  before  Demus :  that  is,  in  other 
words,  the  people.  "  There,"  says  he,  "  you  will  be  sure  to  be  worsted — you 
will  find  no  credit  there,  while  I  can  play  upon  him  as  I  please."  "  You 
seem  to  consider  this  Demus  as  your  own  property."  "  Yes,  for  I  know  the 
morsels  which  he  likes  to  feed  upon."  "True,  and  like  children's  nurses, 
you  grudge  the  food  you  give  him — you  champ,  and  champ  ;  and  for  one  morsel 
that  you  give  the  child,  eat  three  yourself."  Cleon  now  calls  loudly  for 
Demus,  the  representative  of  the  people ;  and  that  dignified  person  makes  his 
appearance :  a  growl,  and  an  instant  charge  of  ftheft  upon  the  parties  present, 
express  at  once  his  grandeur,  his  resentment,  and  his  suspicious  temper. 
The  two  candidates  state  their  several  claims  to  his  favour.  "  I  am  the  friend 
of  Demus,"  says  Cleon,  "  and  am  as  much  attached  to  him  as  a  lover  to  his 
mistress."  "  I  am  your  rival  in  his  affections,"  says  the  sausage-seller. 
"  Yes,  my  dear  Demus ;  I  have  loved  you  this  long  time,  and  it  would  give 
me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  be  of  service  to  you  ;  all  honest  men  partake  my 
sentiments;  but  this  man  keeps  us  away  and  prevents  our  showing  you  proofs 
of  our  attachment."  He  proceeds  to  state  very  candidly  to  Demus  that  he  re- 
sembled very  much  those  capricious  beauties,  who  dismiss  such  suitors  from 
them  as  are  men  of  probity  and  honour,  and  dispose  of  their  favours  and  affec- 
tions to  the  lowest  of  mankind — to  lamplighters,  tanners  and  curriers.:):  Cleon 

*  The  mothon  was  one  of  the  songs  which,  among  the  Greeks,  were  accompanied 
by  a  dance.     Ath.  xiv.  618. 

\  The  article  charged  as  being  stolen  is  the  Eircsione.  This  was  an  olive  branch 
wrapped  in  wool ;  at  the  festivals  Pyancpsia  and  Tliargeha  the  Athenian  boys  used 
to  carry  branches  of  this  kind  in  procession,  and  then  suspend  them  over  the  doors 
of  the  house.  The  custom  of  covering  the  fronts  of  the  houses  with  branches  on 
festival  days,  prevails  still  in  Catholic  countries. 

\  Isocratcs,  whose  honest  virtue  and  genuine  patriotism  place  him  in  the  same 
rank  among  the  rhetoricians,  as  the  son  of  Sophroniscus  held  among  the  philo- 
phers,  addresses  much  the  same  language  to  the  General  Assembly.  "  When  you 
are  consulting  on  your  own  private  affairs,  you  seek  out  those  advisers,  whose  supe- 
rior wisdom  enables  them  best  to  direct  you  :  but  wlien  the  affairs  of  the  stale  are 


126  THE    KXIGHTS; 

knew  his  strong  place;  he  presently,  therefore,  proposes  that  Demus  shall  call 
a  General  Assembly,  and  that  it  should  be  there  decided  who  had  most  pre- 
tensions to  his  favour.  His  adversary  has  no  objection,  provided  the  Assem- 
bly be  not  held  in  the  Pnyx.  "  The  old  gentleman,"  says  he,  "  is  a  man  of 
excellent  sense,  while  he  abides  at  home ;  but  the  moment  he  goes  to  that 
cursed  place,  he  is  as  much  at  his  wit's  ends,  as  the  man  who  wishes  to  dry 
his  figs  in  the  sun,  and  has  not  a  stalk  to  fasten  them  by."  (This  was  the 
Athenian  mode  of  drying  figs.)  But  Demus  will  hear  of  no  other  place. 
"  Pnyx  is  my  true  and  proper  seat.  I  hold  my  sittings  nowhere  else." 
"  Then  I  am  a  ruined  man,"  says  the  Sausage-vender. 

The  Chorus,  as  well  as  the  Sausage-vender,  knew  that  the  gist  of  the  con- 
test must  lie  in  this  trial  of  strength  before  the  General  Assembly:  they  pre- 
pare their  friend  accordingly  for  the  arduous  contest. 

Chorus. 

Hawser  and  cable  both  let  free,  Such  as  may  the  foe  constrain 

We  drive  before  a  raging  sea.  In  indissoluble  chain. 

Mark  you  plant  within  your  eye  'T  is  a  many-colour'd  man ; 

High  resolve  and  bravery.  Apt  in  fancy, — quick  in  plan : 

Words  gigantic  must  be  falling,  Making  way,  where  others  see 

Overwhelming  and  appalling;  Stern  impossibility. 

Be  full  then,  impetuous  and  bright  in  your  daring. 
Clear  your  decks,  and  for  battle  and  blood  be  preparing; 
Let  your  *dolphins  rise  high,  while  the  enemy  's  nearing, 
Or  make  a  full  dash,  while  his  vessel  is  wearing. 

The  scene  now  changes  to  the  |Pnyx,  and  the  pleadings  begin  with  the 
author's  characteristic  humour;  Cleon  taking  the  lead. 

under  deliberation,  all  such  persons  meet  with  distrust  and  jealousy,  and  your  praises 
are  reserved  for  the  most  worthless  of  those  who  mount  the  bema:  there  the  drunken 
are  considered  as  better  disposed  to  the  people  than  the  sober,  the  irrational  than  the 
wise :  and  the  feeders  upon  the  public  revenue  are  more  valued  than  those  who 
execute  the  laborious  offices  of  the  state  at  their  own  charges."  Iso.  de  Pace,  v.  i.  p. 
329.     See  also  Xenophon  de  Rep.  Ath.  c.  1 .  ss.  4.  5. 

*  Dolphins  were  vast  weights,  which  might  be  hoisted  and  dropped  on  any  vessel 
passing  near,  and  with  such  violence  as  to  sink  it. 

+  As  Demus  in  the  following  scene  is  supposed  to  typify  the  Ecclesia  or  General 
Assembly,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  give  a  short  account  of  that  important  branch  of 
the  Athenian  constitution,  in  which  the  democracy  or  real  power  of  the  state  re- 
sided. The  Ecclesia  consisted  of  all  such  as  were  freemen  of  Athens,  of  what 
quality  soever,  and  generally  met  to  the  number  of  five  or  six  thousand  members. 
These  Assemblies  were  either  stated  or  extraordinary.  The  stated  Assemblies  were 
those  held  at  four  regular  times  during  the  thirtyfive  days  that  each  Prytaneia  or 
company  of  Prytanes  successively  presided  in  the  Senate.  Each  of  these  four  days 
had  its  peculiar  duties,  and  regular  public  business  to  transact.  Before  the  gratuity 
of  three  obols  was  allowed  to  each  member  for  his  attendance,  it  was  sometimes 
necessary  to  use  a  little  force  to  compel  the  attendance  of  the  citizens.  The  extra- 
ordinary Assemblies  were  such  as  were  summoned  by  the  Generals  or  the  Polemarch, 
in  the  case  of  some  sudden  and  unexpected  war.     The  magistrates  who  had  the  care 


OR    THE    DEMAGOGUES.  127 


SCENE  III. 


Cleon,  Sausage-seller,  Demus,  Chorus. 

Cleon  (^anapasstics.)  "With  our  lady  divine,  the  town's  saviour  and  mine, 
my  prayers  make,  as  meet,  their  beginning: — (a  pause  of  affected  de- 
votioti) 
If  disguise  none  I  wear,  while  to  Demus  I  swear 

such  love  as  from  none  he  is  winning, 
(Lysicles*  I  except,  and  a  clause  too  is  left 
for  the  fair]-  Salabaccha  and  Cynna,) 

of  these  Assemblies  were  the  Prytanes,  the  Proedri,  and  the  Epistatse.  The  Pry- 
tanes  sometimes  called  the  people  together,  and  always  before  the  meeting  set  up  a 
programma  in  some  place  of  general  concourse,  in  which  were  contained  the  matters 
that  were  to  form  the  subject  of  consideration  at  the  ensuing  Assembly.  The  Proe- 
dri, as  their  name  imports,  held  the  first  places  in  the  Assemblies.  Their  business 
was  to  propose  to  the  people  the  subjects  whicli  they  were  to  deliberate  and  determine 
upon  in  the  meeting:  at  the  end  of  which  their  offices  expired.  It  was  provided  by 
a  law,  that  in  every  Assembly,  one  of  the  Tribes  should  be  appointed  by  lots  to  hold 
the  office  of  Proedri,  to  preside  at  the  Suggestum,  (or  place  from  which  the  speeches 
were  delivered,)  and  defend  the  commonwealth,  by  preventing  the  orators  and  others 
from  propounding  anything  inconsistent  with  the  received  laws,  or  destructive  of 
the  peace  and  welfare  of  the  city.  The  Epistates,  or  President  of  the  Assembly,  was 
chosen  by  lot  out  of  the  Proedri;  the  chief  part  of  his  office  seems  to  have  consisted 
in  granting  the  people  liberty  to  give  their  voices,  which  they  were  not  permitted  to 
do  till  he  had  given  the  signal.  The  Assemblies  were  held  in  the  Agora,  or  market- 
place, in  the  theatre  of  Bacchus,  or  in  the  Pnyx.  They  began  with  expiatory  rites, 
with  prayers  to  the  gods  for  the  prosperity  of  Athens,  and  with  bitter  imprecations 
upon  such  as  should  counsel  anything  in  that  Assembly  to  the  prejudice  of  Athens. 
(See  the  Comedy  of  the  Female  Parliament,  where  all  the  proceedings  are  parodied 
with  much  humour.)  When  these  ceremonies  were  concluded,  the  crier,  by  com- 
mand of  the  Proedri,  repeated  the  probideuma,  or  decree  of  the  Senate,  upon  which 
the  Assembly  was  to  deliberate :  he  then  demanded  in  a  loud  voice,  "  which  of  the 
men  above  fifty  years  of  age  will  make  an  oration  1"  The  elders  having  delivered 
their  opinions,  the  crier  made  a  second  proclamation,  "  It  is  allowed  to  every  Athe. 
nian,  in  conformity  with  existing  laws,  to  deliver  his  sentiments."  It  was  the  pri- 
vilege, therefore,  of  every  Athenian  citizen  to  give  his  opinion  on  public  afiairs  at 
pleasure,  but  the  task  was  more  commonly  left  to  the  public  orators,  of  whom  some 
account  has  already  been  given.  The  curious  reader  may  compare  with  these  ac- 
counts of  the  Athenian  Senate  and  General  Assembly,  the  general  establishments  of 
the  Italian  republics  under  Otho  I.     Hist,  des  Rep.  Ital,  t.  i.  c.  6. 

*   Who  Lysicles  was  has  been  explained  already. 

•j-  Salabaccha  and  Cynna  were  two  famous  courtezans  of  the  day.  Persons  of 
their  description  were  not  unfrequcntly  introduced  on  the  Grecian  stage;  and  if  the 
letters  of  Alciphron  (by  whomsoever  written)  may  be  considered  as  a  correct  picture 
of  Athenian  manners,  authors  frequently  took  this  method  of  revenging  the  private 
affronts,  which  they  might  happen  to  have  received  from  them.  Epist.  Alciphronis. 
V.  i.  Epist.  29. 


128  THE  knights; 

May  the  *HalI  without  tasking  my  labour,  or  asking 

equivalent,  find  me  a  dinner. 
If  time  my  love  draw  to  a  close,  may  the  saw 

take  in  vengeance  my  body's  dimension; 
May  I  wither  and  pine,  till  I  symbol  the  line, 

which  without  any  breadth  is  extension. 
Sous.  To  love — fair  and  true — I  can  make  my  claim  too; 

and  if  ever  its  chain  should  less  bind  me; 
May  I  mince  into  meat,  so  minute  that  who  eat, 

must  have  eyes  keen  as  fAttic  to  find  tne. 
Further,  sirs,  may  the  knife  make  a  push  at  my  life, 

and  for  cheese  may  the  :J:salad  receive  me, 
To  my  own  fleshhook  hung,  may  men  force  me  along, 

and  nought  but  the  §churchyard  relieve  me. 
Clean  (/o  Dsmus.^  For  service  and  zeal  I  to  facts,  sir,  appeal : — 

say  of  all  that  e'er  sway'd  this  proud  city. 
Who  had  ever  more  skill  your  snug  coffer  to  fill, 

undisturb'd  by  respectance  or  pity] 
For  one  and  for  two  I  've  the  rope  and  the  screw, 

to  a  third  I  make  soft  supplication; 
And  I  spurn  at  all  ties,  and  all  laws  I  despise, 

so  that  Demus  find  gratification. 
Saus.  Mere  smoke  this  and  dust!  Demus,  take  it  on  trust, 

that  my  service  and  zeal  can  run  faster : 
1  am  he  that  can  steal  at  the  mouth  a  man's  meal, 

and  set  it  before  my  own  master. 
Other  proofs  than  of  love  in  this  knave's  grate  and  stove, 

noble  lord,  may  your  eyes  be  discerning : 
There  the  coal  and  the  ||fuel  that  should  warm  your  own  gruel, 

to  your  slave's  ease  and  comfort  are  burning. 

*  The  nature  of  the  establishment  called  the  Prytaneum,  or  Halls  of  public  ban- 
quets, has  been  explained  already. 

+  La  nature  avoit  done  les  Atheniens  d'une  grande  subtilite  dans  les  organes 
optiques;  et  en  eux  la  force  intuitive  etoit  telle,  que  jamais  notre  vue  ne  sauroit  at- 
teindre  au  point  d'eloignement  ou  la  lour  s'etendoit.  Du  promontoire  de  Sunium, 
dit  Pausanias,  ils  distinguent  jusqu'au  plumage  du  casque  et  jusqu'au  sommet  de  la 
pique  dont  on  a  arme  une  statue  colossale  de  Minerve,  place  e  dans  la  citadelle 
d'Athenes.  Cependant  cette  distance  est  tout  au  moins  en  ligne  droite  de  dix  lieues 
de  France.     De  Pauw.  t.  i.  p.  109. 

t  The  composition  of  an  Athenian  salad  will  be  explained  in  the  comedy  of  the 
Peace. 

§  In  the  original  Cerameicus.  Duo  Athenis  fucrunt  loci  hoc  nomine,  alter  Cele- 
bris propter  sepulcbra  bene  meritorum  de  republica ;  alter  propter  habitationem  mere- 
tricum.     Beckii  Comment. 

H  Lucian,  who  had  alwa3's  his  eye  upon  Aristophanes,  taunts  the  Rhetoricians  in 
the  same  way  that  his  master  does  the  poets.  See  that  admirable  piece  of  humour, 
the  Rhetorum  Prseceptor,  Luc.  v.  vii.  p.  2.38.  Bipont.  edit.  The  Athenians  being  at 
once  metallurgists  and  navigators,  the  consumption  of  wood  was  necessarily  great, 
and  the  article  itself  consequently  very  dear. 


OR    THE    DEMAGOGUES.  129 

Nay,  since  Marathon's  day,  when  thy  sword  (Jto  Demus)  pav'd  the  way 

to  Persia's  disgrace  and  declension, 
(That  bountiful  mint  in  which  *bards  without  stint 

fashion  words  of  sixfooted  dimension) 
Like  a  stone  or  a  stock,  hast  not  sat  on  a  frock, 

cold,  comfortless,  bare  and  derided: — 
While  this  chief  of  the  land  never  yet  to  your  hand 

a  cushion  or  seat  hath  provided  ? 
But  take  this  {giving  a  cushion)  to  the  ease  of  your  hams  and  your  knees : 

for  since  Salamis'  proud  day  of  story. 
With  a  fleet  ruin-hurl'd,  they  took  rank  in  the  world, 
and  should  seat  them  in  comfort  and  glory. 
Dem.  What  vision  art  thou !  let  me  read  on  thy  brow, 
what  lineage  and  kindred  have  won  thee ! 
Thou  wast  born  for  my  weal,  and  the  impress  and  seal 
of  Harmed  ius  are  surely  upon  thee. 
Cleon  (morfijicd.)  O  feat  easy  done  !  and  is  Demus  thus  won 

by  diminutive  gifts  and  oblations? 
Saus.  Small  my  baits  1  allow,  but  in  size  they  outgo 

your  own  little  douceurs  and  donations. 
Ckon  {fiercely.')  Small  or  great  be  my  bait,  ne'er  my  boast  I  abate, 
but  for  proof  head  and  shoulders  I  offer, 
That  in  act  and  in  will  to  Demus  here  still 
a  love  unexampled  I  profler. 
Saus.  {dactylics.)  You  proffer  love  indeed  !  you  that  have  seen  him  bleed, 
buffing  and  roughing  it  years  twice  four ; 
A  tub  and  cask  :|:tenant, — vulture  lodg'd — sixth  floor  man  ; 

batter'd  and  tatter'd,  and  bruis'd  and  sore ! 
There  was  he  pent  and  shent  with  u  most  vile  intent, 

his  milk  and  honey  sweet  from  him  to  squeeze ; 
Pity  none  e'er  he  won,  though  the  smoke  pinch'd  his  eyes, 
and  his  sweet  wine  it  was  drawn  to  the  lees. 

•  Not  only  bards,  however,  and  orators  swore  by  the  battles  of  Marathon  and 
Salamis,  but  the  very  cooks  embcHishcd  their  diction  by  the  same  appeal.  Vide 
Athcn.  1.  ix.  p.  380.  The  battles  of  Marathon  and  Salamis  have  been  attended 
with  consequences  of  too  much  importance  to  society,  to  admit  of  their  being  made 
a  subject  even  of  momentary  pleasantry ;  but  it  may  be  permitted  to  remark,  that 
they  are  not  without  their  merit  to  the  classical  reader  in  furnishing  some  variety  to 
those  topics  of  Athenian  eulogy, — the  battle  with  the  Amazons — the  war  for  the  re- 
covery of  the  dead  bodies  at  Thebes — and  the  services  to  the  Heracleidaa,  which  so 
perpetually  recur  in  the  Attic  writers.  See  among  other  pieces  of  antiquity  the 
Funeral  Orations  of  Lysias  and  Plato,  and  the  speech  of  Isocrates,  called  the 
Panegyrica. 

f  An  allusion  to  the  stones,  with  which  the  Pnyx,  the  usual  place  of  meeting  for 
the  General  Assembly,  was  crowded. 

\  The  poet  in  the  strongest  manner  paints  the  miserable  accommodation,  provided 
for  the  numbers  of  country  people,  wliom  the  policy  of  Pericles  had  obliged  to  take 
up  their  residence  in  the  capital.     The  preceding  line  applies  to  the  number  of  years 
wliich  tiie  Pcloponnesian  war  had  now  lasted. 
17 


130  THE  knights; 

When  Archeptolemus  lately  brought  *Peace  to  us; 

who  but  you  (to  Cleon)  scatter'd  and  scar'd  the  virgin, 
While  your  foot  rudely  plac'd,  where  Honour's  soul  is  cas'd, 

spurn'd  at  all  such  as  acceptance  were  urging? 
Cleon  {fawning.)  And,  my  good  sir,  the  caused — Marry  that  Demus'  laws 

Greece  universal  might  obey  : 
Oracles  here  have  I,  and  they  in  verity 

bear  that  this  lord  of  our's  must  hold  sway, 
Judging  in  f  Arcady,  and  for  his  salary, 

earning  him  easily  a  five  obol  coin. 
Let  him  but  wait  his  fate ;  and  in  mean  time  his  state, 

food  and  support  shall  be  care  of  mine.  [that  way  : 

Saus.  (contemptuously.)  Arcady,  fee  and  sway !  look'd  not  your  thoughts 

donative,  gift  and  bribe,  these  were  your  aim : 
War  is  your  hoodwink  wherein  Demus'  senses  sink, 

'till  to  your  hand  he  crouch  trembling  and  tame. 
But  let  him  once  again  unto  his  field  and  plain. 

Peace,  in  thy  arms,  sweetest  maiden,  be  borne ; 
Let  him  but  play  the  guest  with  olives  newly  prest, 

and  hold  a  tete-a-tete  with  green  corn; 
Straight  he  will  learn  and  know,  who  't  is  hath  work'd  him  woe, 

that  his  own  bribery  might  have  sway  : 
Then  from  his  rustic  home,  like  salvage  man  he  '11  come, 

turning  up  :j:sea  shells  along  his  way. 
{to  Cleon.)  You  well  advis'd  of  this,  no  fav'ring  moment  miss 

wild  dreams  and  oracles  ever  to  proffer — 
Cleon.  (^interrupting.)  This  to  me  1 — and  from  thee  1 — O  matchless  villainy  ! 

calumnies  thus  'gainst  a  statesman  to  offer, 
Who  blessings  rich  and  great,  on  this  our  town  and  state, 

ever  is  careful  to  heap  and  to  pour: 
Noble  Themistocles,  Ceres  can  witness  it, 

in  his  prosperity  never  heap'd  more. 
Saus.  Hear  him,  ye  starry  spheres  !  earth  and  sea,  lend  your  ears ! 

he  to  compare  with  our  patriot  of  yore. 
Who  found  our  city  trim,  full  to  the  lip  and  brim, 

yet  made  her  liquor  cup  run  all  o'er! 
When  she  had  din'd  and  supp'd,  his  bounty  serv'd  her  up, 

as  a  dessert,  the  §Peiraeus  rare ; 
New  fish  still  dealing  her,  without  curtailing  her, 

0  matchless  caterer !  her  old  bill  of  fare. 


•  Thuc.  I.  iv.  CO.  12—22. 

f  Arcadia,  as  the  central  province  of  Peloponnesus,  is  here  put  for  the  whole  of 
that  peninsula.  Cleon's  oracles  therefore  promised  all  that  was  most  agreeable  to 
Athenian  imagination  :  extended  dominion,  judicial  employment,  and  extraordinary 
pay. 

i  An  allusion  to  the  shells,  which  were  used  in  the  courts  of  justice. 

§  The  policy  of  Themistocles  in  securing  the  famous  harbour  of  Peiraeus  by  long 
walls  is  too  well  known  to  need  a  further  explanation. 


OR    THE    DEMAGOGUES.  131 

But  'neath  your  rule  our  town  totters  and  tumbles  down, 

dwarf  d  and  curtail'd  in  her  members  fair; 
With  walls  she  's  overrun,  with  prophecies  undone ; 

yet  with  Themistocles  dare  you  compare  ! 
He,  sooth,  his  country  fled — while  you  on  *cates  are  fed, 

on  rich  conserves,  and  on  cakes  of  the  best! 
Clean.  Demus,  I  make  appeal — must  I  this  tempest  feel, 

Thus  for  my  love  to  you  harass'd  and  prest  ] 

But  the  reign  of  favouritism  is  beginning  to  be  at  an  end.  The  li^ht  is  let 
in  upon  Demus,  and  conscious  that  he  has  been  cheated  long  enough,  he  de- 
sires Cleon  to  forbear  his  railleries.  The  Sausage-vender  follows  up  his  in- 
cipient triumph. 

Saus. 

Mark  him,  Demus,  mark  and  soc  Petty  plunder — sweet  douceur, — 

Triple  dye  of  knavery!  Compromise  and  bargain  sure — 

When  your  senses  wander  wide ; —  Symbol  of  mere  deglutition. 

Lost  in  ignorance  and  pride, —  He  sucks  all  at  competition — 

This  the  man  on  whom  to  fix  Fibre,  tendril,  root  and  branch, 

Haifa  score  of  dirty  tricks.  Nought  escapes  his  grinders  staunch  ; 

All  that  form'd  your  daintiest  treat  But  with  either  hand  a  scoop. 

And  your  banquet's  sav'riest  meat —  All  is  gone  at  one  fell  swoop. 

The  boisterous  answers,  wliich  Cleon  makes  to  these  and  some  similar 
charges,  are  ridiculed  by  two  powerful  Greek  words,  which  compare  them  to 
"  beating  the  sea,  and  making  a  flouncing  noise  with  the  broad  part  of  an 
oar:"  while  the  attacks  awaken  Uie  poetical  powers  and  congratulations  of 
the  friendly  Chorus. 

Cho.  Star  of  salvation,  through  the  night  to  darkling  man  apnearing-, 
Now  blessed  be  that  fruitful  tongue  and  port  of  mighty  daring. 
Pursue  thy  course,  and  thou,  perforce,  o'er  Greece  and  this  our  nation, 
Wilt  hold  high  state  and  shine  elate  in  most  exalted  station. 
A  three-fork'd  sceptre  in  thy  hand,  large  wealth  wilt  thou  be  making, 
Rending  and  blending  all  at  will — confounding, — stirring, — shaking. 
Your  rival  noos'd — beware  he  's  loos'd — keep  sturdy  grasp  and  tension  : 
Small  task  I  ask  from  bulk  like  thine  and  sides  of  such  dimension. 

Cleon,  however,  had  been  too  long  in  oflUce,  and  knew  too  well  the  sweets 
of  power,  to  be  dispossessed  very  easily :  and  one  source  of  security  particu- 
larly remained  to  him: — let  affairs  come  to  the  worst,  he  can  "stop  the 
mouths"  of  his  most  violent  enemies,  while  one  of  those  shields  remained, 
which  he  had  taken  from  the  enemy  at  Pylus.     But  the  ingenuity  of  his  rival 


*  The  placentsE  Achilici.'E,  mentioned  in  the  text  as  the  chief  article  of  Oleon's 
diet,  were  made  of  a  particular  sort  of  biiricy,  vvhicb,  according  to  Lucian,  had  the 
sini?ular  virtue  of  augmrntin<T  flie  ficnltv  of  intuition  and  the  suiitilty  of  the  optic 
origans. 


132  THE  knights; 

finds  a  topic  of  accusation  and  complaint  against  him  even  on  that  subject, 
which  in  his  own  imagination  formed  his  most  brilliant  achievement.  In  the 
pride  of  conquest,  Cleon  had  hung  up  the  shields  of  the  captured  Spartans  as 
a  trophy  in  the  temple  of  the  gods.  The  laws  of  Athens  required,  that  all 
offerings  of  this  nature  should  first  be  mutilated  or  dispossessed  of  whatever 
could  afterwards  make  them  serviceable  for  profane  uses.  In  neglect  of  this 
ordinance,  Cleon  had  suspended  his  shields,  without  previously  dispossessing 
them  of  their  handles.  The  Sausage-vender,  therefore,  does  not  merely  uso 
the  language  of  metaphor,  when  hearing  his  rival  talk  of  these  shields,  he  bids 
him  stop,  and  tells  him  he  has  "  a  handle  against  himself."  He  draws  per- 
haps upon  his  own  ingenuity,  when  he  endeavours  to  persuade  Demus,  that 
this  omission  was  not  a  mere  act  of  forgetfulness  in  Cleon,  but  that  it  pro- 
ceeded from  a  settled  and  premeditated  purpose,  that  in  case  he  found  his  mas- 
ter "  roaring  and  looking  the  *ostracism  at  him,"  he  might  have  a  resource 
wherewith  "  to  arm  all  the  tanners,  cheesemongers,  and  venders  of  honey  in 
the  town,  and  then  seize  upon  the  granaries."  The  imagination  of  Demus  is 
presently  occupied  with  this  narration,  and  he  exclaims  in  an  accent  of  terror 
and  dismay  at  the  deceits  which  were  practised  upon  him.  Cleon  endeavours 
to  reassure  him — and  particularly  boasts  of  his  talent  in  keeping  down  cabals, 
and  of  his  readiness  at  giving  tongue,  when  a  conspiracy  is  on  foot.  "  Like 
enough,"  says  his  persevering  rival :  "  conspiracy  is  to  you,  what  troubled 
water  is  to  those  who  fish  for  eels.  When  the  lake  is  still,  their  labour  goes 
for  nothing;  when  the  mud  is  well  stirred,  they  take  eels  in  plenty.  It  is  the 
same  case  between  our  city  and  yourself.  But  tell  me,"  he  continues,  "  you 
deal  in  leather,  and  you  profess  a  great  affection  for  Demus  :  did  you  ever,  in 
the  plenitude  of  your  love,  make  him  your  debtor  for  a  pair  of  shoes  ■?"  "  That 
I  '11  be  sworn  he  did  not,"  says  the  old  gentleman.  The  Sausage-vender  fol- 
lows up  his  blow  by  instantly  presenting  a  pair.  Demus  is  all  gratitude — he 
declares  that  himself,  the  republic,  and  his  toes  never  had  so  sincere  a  friend. 
These  kind  affections  are  still  further  improved  by  the  present  of  one  of  those 
mantles  which  had  double  sleeves  hanging  down  from  the  shoulder  blade. 
"  Themistocles  himself,"  says  Demus,  in  a  transport  of  gratitude,  "never 
struck  upon  a  brighter  thought  than  this  :  his  fortifications  in  the  Peirseus  were 
a  brilliant  invention ;  but  this  far  surpasses  it !"  Cleon  reproaches  his  adver- 
sary with  his  servile  flattery  :  "  I  have  but  borrowed  your  own  manners,"  re- 
plies his  opponent :  "  I  am  like  our  Athenians,  who  having  drunk  freely  at  an 

*  Of  the  nature  of  this  punishment  more  will  be  said  hereafter :  one  nearly  simi- 
lar exists  in  the  despotic  empire  of  China,  where  the  Emperor  is  as  jealous  of  his 
authority,  as  the  sovereign  people  of  Athens  were  of  their  supreme  dominion.  It  is 
enacted  in  the  penal  code  of  China,  that  if  any  officer  belonging  to  any  of  the  de- 
partments of  government,  or  any  private  individual,  shall  address  the  Emperor  in 
praise  of  the  virtues,  abilities,  or  successful  administration,  of  any  of  his  Majesty's 
confidential  ministers  of  state,  it  is  to  be  considered  as  an  evidence  of  a  treasonable 
conspiracy  subversive  of  government,  and  shall  therefore  be  investigated  with  the  ut- 
most strictness  and  accuracy :  the  causes  and  origin  of  these  interested  praises  of 
persons  high  in  rank  and  office  being  traced,  the  offending  party  shall  suffer  death, 
by  being  beheaded,  after  remaining  in  prison  the  usual  period.  His  wives  and  chil- 
dren shall  become  slaves,  and  his  property  shall  be  confiscated. — Ta  'I'sing  Leu  Lee, 
etc.,  by  Sir  George  Staunton. 


OR   THE    DEMAGOGUES.  133 

entertainment,  and  finding  it  necessary  to  retire  for  a  moment,  use  their  neigh- 
bours *slippers  instead  of  their  own."  Cleon  now  finds  it  necessary  to  open 
his  pursestrings,  and  he  makes  a  present  of  a  robe — but  the  old  gentleman's 
nose  grows  delicate,  and  he  complains  bitterly  of  a  smell  of  leather.  The 
rival  courtier  improves  the  hint,  "  Do  you  remember,  sir,  when  fsilphium- 
spice  was  sold  so  cheap  V  "  I  do,"  says  Demus.  "  It  was  all  this  man's 
doing;  he  thought  the  low  price  would  tempt  you  to  a  purchase  :  then,  says 
he,  when  my  masters  sit  in  the  Courts  of  Justice,  they  will  poison  each  other 
with  their  own  effluvia."  More  humour  of  this  kind  follows,  till  Cleon,  vexed 
at  his  adversary's  success,  who  sounds  indeed  the  very  bass  string  of  humility 
to  gain  the  ascendancy  over  Demus,  threatens  him  with  some  of  those  vexa- 
tious proceedings,  which,  by  the  peculiar  nature  of  the  Attic  constitution,  a 
man,  high  in  olfice,  could  so  easily  employ  to  harass  those  who  had  incurred 
his  displeasure. 

For  this,  friend,  it  shall  be  thy  fate  And  still  the  more  to  drain  thy  purse, 
To  fit  a  :j:vessel  for  the  state ;  A  leaky  skiflT  shall  be  thy  curse. 

•  It  appears  to  have  been  a  custom  among  the  Greeks,  to  leave  their  slippers  in 
an  antichambcr  when  they  went  to  an  entertainment. 

f  The  silphium,  or  herb  Benjamin,  was  much  used  by  the  ancients  in  medicine. 
It  was  brought  chiefly  from  the  country  of  Gyrene,  and  was  held  in  such  high 
veneration,  that  a  leaf  of  it  was  suspended  in  the  Temple  of  Apollo.  Cleon,  it  ap- 
pears, had  provided  that  this  valuable  herb  should  be  brought  in  great  quantities  to 
Athens;  and  for  this  he  deserved  commendation.  It  was  the  poet's  purpose,  how- 
ever, to  put  an  unfavourable,  or  at  least  a  ridiculous  construction  on  all  his  actions. 

i  For  the  Athenian  fleet,  the  state  furnished  only  the  ship  and  the  crew ;  all  the 
other  expenses  fell  upon  the  rich  citizens,  who,  when  appointed  to  this  office,  took 
the  name  of  Trierarcs.  Thus,  under  democracy,  as  Mr  Mitford  observes,  no  man 
was  master  of  his  own :  property,  person,  everything  must  be  devoted,  not  to  the 
service  only,  but  to  the  pleasure  and  fanc}-  of  the  people.  The  wealthy  were  not 
allowed  the  choice  of  leaving  Attica,  and  the  constitution  positively  denied  them  thj 
choice  of  quiet  there.  To  execute  the  duties  of  magistracy,  to  equip  a  ship  of  war, 
to  preside  at  a  public  feast,  to  direct  a  dramatic  entertainment,  and  to  f«rnish  the 
whole  cost,  were  equally  required  of  all  supposed  of  competent  estate. 

"  The  spirit  of  tyranny,"  continues  the  historian,  "  inherent  in  the  Athenian  con- 
stitution, and  the  disregard,  upon  principle,  for  property  and  the  convenience  and 
satisfaction  of  individuals,  are  very  strikingly  marked  in  a  regulation  which  wc  find 
had  the  force  of  law.  When  an  expensive  office,  and  particularly  when  the  equip- 
ment of  a  trireme  (as  the  larger  vessels  of  war  were  termed)  was  assessed  on  any 
one,  he  might,  for  the  time,  avoid  the  burthen  by  indicating  a  richer  man ;  and  if 
the  superior  wealth  were  denied,  offering  to  exchange  estates.  The  person  so  chal- 
lenged had  no  alternative  but  to  take  upon  himself  the  office,  or  accept  the  exchange. 
The  satisfaction  thus  of  an  Englishman,  in  considering  his  house  and  his  field,  more 
securely  his  own  under  the  protection  of  the  law,  than  a  castle  defended  by  its  gar- 
rison, or  a  kingdom  by  its  armies,  was  unknown  in  Attica.  It  was  as  dangerous  to 
be  rich  under  the  Athenian  democracy  as  under  the  Turkish  despotism;  the  same 
subterfuges  were  used  to  conceal  wealth ;  the  same  bribery  and  flattery  to  preserve 
it;  with  this  difference  principally,  that,  in  Athens,  the  flattery  was  grosser,  in  pro- 
portion to  the  low  condition  of  the  flattered  and  their  multitude ;  which  so  divided 


134  THE   knights; 

With  all  the  neverending  cares  Sous,  (^solemnly.) 

Of  pitching,  tarring  and  repairs, —  All  threat  I  forbear. 

Crazy  in  bottom,  front  and  tail, —  Or  the  menaced  might  rue  it : 

A  tottering  mast — a  rotten  sail.  But  I  have  a  prayer, 

Cho.  (<o  Cleon.)  And  the  gods  see  me  through  it. — 

Abate  your  threats — restrain  your  ire ;  (^speaking  rapidly)  May  a  pan  of  sleeve 
There  's  too  much  wood  upon  the  fire.  fish, 

Forbear,  great  man  of  words :  no  more :  Hot  as  fancy  could  wish, 

For  see  your  vessel  's  boiling  o'er.  Before  you  take  station 

Cleon.  Some  day,  when  oration 

With  tribute,  tax  and  fine  oppress'd.  In  Miletus'  aid 

You  '11  find  this  quarrel,  friend,  no  jest.  You  're  preparing  to  hold  ; — 

This  moment  I  my  journey  hold  The  price  of  your  labour 

To  have  you  with  the  rich  enroll'd.  A  talent  of  *gold. 

the  shame,  that,  equally  in  receiving  adulation  and  committing  iniquity,  no  man 
blushed  for  himself,"     Hist,  of  Greece. 

To  the  sentiments  thus  forcibly  and  justly  expressed,  the  following  lines  from  the 
Miles  of  Antiphanes  can  add  little  weight,  but  as  they  show  the  feelings  of  the 
Athenians  themselves  on  the  hardships  to  which  this  note  refers. 

O,  what  a  fool  is  he, 

Who  dreams  about  stability,  or  thinks. 

Good  easy  dolt !  that  aught  in  life's  secure  ! 

Security  ! — either  a  loan  is  ask'd  ; 

Then  house  and  all  that  it  contains  are  gone 

At  one  fell  sweep — or  you  've  a  suit  to  meet, 

And  Law  and  Ruin  ever  are  twin  brothers. — 

Art  nam'd  to  a  general's  post?  lines,  penalties, 

And  debts  upon  the  heels  of  office  follow. 

Do  the  stage  charges  fall  upon  you  ]   good  : 

The  Chorus  must  go  clad  in  spangled  robes, 

Yourself  may  pace  in  rags.     Far  happier  he 

Who  's  nam'd  a  trierarc : — he  buys  a  halter 

And  wisely  balks  at  once  th'  expensive  office. — 

Sleeping  or  waking, — on  the  sea  or  land — 

Among  your  menials  or  before  your  foes, 

Danger  and  Insecurity  are  with  you. 

The  very  table,  charg'd  with  viands,  is 

Mere  mock'ry  oft; — gives  promise  to  the  eye, 

And  breaks  it  to  the  lip.     Is  there  nought  safe  then  ? 

Yes,  by  the  gods, — that  which  has  pass'd  the  teeth, 

And  is  in  state  of  deglutition — reckon 

Yourself  secure  of  that  and  that  alone  : — 

All  else  is  fleet,  precarious,  insecure. 
*  Fees  and  bcnevolencies  of  this  kind  were  frequently  given  to  the  public  orators 
at  Athens  by  foreign  states,  in  order  to  keep  them  in  their  interest.  We  learn 
through  .-Eschincs  (Oratio  de  Coronri)  that  a  yearly  sum  of  sixty  pounds  was  to  be 
received  by  Demosthenes  from  the  Amphissians,  as  a  compensation  for  liis  support 
of  their  cause  at  Athens. 


4 


OR    THE    DEMAGOGIES.  135 

The  fish  quite  in  prime,  You  resolv'd  to  decline 

And  your  appetite  loose,  Neither  wages  nor  feast, 

Yet  wishing  in  time  To  your  mouth  straight  consign 

To  be  down  at  the  House;  Half  a  score  at  the  least — 

While  your  lips  are  preparing  Your  throat  it  takes  umbrage 

The  feast  to  begin,  At  so  much  stor'd  within  it ; 

With  a  summons  appearing,  You  choke — give  a  gast, — 

Steps  a  messenger  in ;  And  are  gone  in  a  minute. 

This  imprecation,  for  which  the  Sausage-vender  appears  to  have  summoned 
all  his  powers,  is  much  to  the  taste  of  the  Chorus  :  and  that  moral  body  swear 
by  Jupiter,  by  Apollo,  and  by  Ceres,  a  triple  oath  which  the  last  invocation 
rendered  most  confirmatory,  that  the  Sausage-vender  had  spoken  nothing  but 
what  had  their  commendation.  Demus  himself  is  roused,  and  breaks  out  into 
an  eulogium ;  but  panegyric  was  unusual  to  him,  and  even  his  praise  is 
coupled  with  a  sarcasm. 

Demus.  I  have  observed  this  man :  he  wears  a  show 
Of  honesty,  more  than  I  ever  saw 
In  those  who  go  for  many  to  the  *penny. 
In  sooth  I  love  the  man — for  you,  fine  Paphlagonian, 
Who  hold  such  large  professions  of  your  love. 
Know  that  you  've  anger'd  me  beyond  all  suff'rance. 
And  are  dismiss'd  : — I  ask  your  fring  of  office.     (CVeon  gives  his  ring.) 
{To  Saus.)  To  you  and  to  your  care  I  do  commend  it. 

Clcon.   One  word  at  parting — I  have  left  your  service — 
Who  follows  me,  believe,  will  prove  a  :^knave 
Still  greater  than  myself. 

Dem.  (to  Cleon.)  Why  how  now,  rogue! 

This  is  no  ring  of  mine — it  tallies  not 
With  my  device,  or  much  my  eyes  deceive  me. 

Saus.  Allow  me,  sir — what  might  be  your  impression? 

Dem.  A  roasted  thrium  with  thick  §fat  inclosed. 

Saus.  (Jooking  at  the  ring.)  I  see  no  thrium. 

Dem.  What  the  impression  then  ? 

*  Demus  alludes  to  the  obol,  the  usual  compensation  for  services  among  the  Athe- 
nians. 

■j-  This  ring  may  be  considered  as  equivalent  to  our  Great  Seal.  The  direction  of 
public  affairs  was  chiefly  entrusted  to  the  confidential  person  who  held  it;  the  Ar- 
chons,  the  ostensible  magistrates  of  Athens,  possessing  very  little  actual  power.  The 
engravers  of  seals,  who  must  have  formed  a  considerable  body  in  Athens,  were  for- 
bidden by  law,  to  keep  an  impression  of  any  seal  which  they  had  cut,  in  their  shops, 
to  prevent  the  frauds  which  might  arise  from  counterfeiting  the  seals  of  private  in- 
dividuals. 

t  This  was  a  dreary  prospect  for  the  Athenians,  and  a  keen  sarcasm  on  her  public 
men. 

§  The  nature  of  the  thrium  has  been  explained  in  the  Acharnians.  The  Greek 
word  Demus,  with  a  variation  of  accent,  signified  "  obesity,"  as  well  as  "  the  people." 
The  allusion  is  evident. 


136  THE  knights; 

Satis.  A  wide  mouth'd  gull — high  seated  on  a  rock, 
In  act  to  make  a  speech. 

Dem.  Me  miserable ! 

Saus.  What  ails  you,  sir  1 

Dcm.  Away  with  it — it  is 

No  seal  of  mine— CleonymuB  may  own  it, 

It  is  his  property.     Take  this,  (^giving  another  ring  to  Saus,^  and  be 
Therewith  invested  with  supreme  command 
And  sov'reignty  o'er  this  my  house  and  treasury. 

Clean.  One  word  —upon  ray  knees — I  have  some  oracles — 
Make  your  car  partner  to  them,  ere  you  pass 
Your  last  resolve. 

Saus.  I  too  have  oracles, 

That  claim  a  hearing. 

Cleon.  (^to  Demus,  showing  him  an  oracle.)  Sir,  't  is  worded  here, 
A  time  shall  come,  when  crown'd  with  blooming  roses 
Demus  shall  sway  the  universal  world. 

Saus.  'T  is  worded,  sir,  in  mine,  that,  deck'd  in  purple, — 
A  crown  upon  his  head,  and  charioted 
In  golden  car, — Deraus — in  all  the  pomp 
And  circumstance  of  mighty  majesty — 
Shall  hold  pursuit — of  Thracian  *Smycythes — 
And  her  fair  lord. 

Cleon.  Produce  your  oracles. 

Saus.  I  wait  no  second  bidding. 

Detn.  {to  Cleon.')  Let  the  same 

Be  done  by  you — 

Cleon.  Your  bidding  is  obeyed — 

I  go. — {hurrying  off.) 

Saus.  I  vanish. — 

A  short  intermede  relieves  the  time,  while  the  two  disputants  are  absent 
fetching  their  oracles.  It  is  scarcely  susceptible  of  translation  ;  the  reader's 
indulgence  is  desired  for  the  following  attempt. — In  the  education  of  Athenian 
youth,  the  science  of  music  formed  a  prominent  part;  and  the  Greek  music,  it 
has  been  already  observed,  was  intimately  connected  with  the  principles  of 
grammar.  The  Chorus  allege  it  to  have  been  a  complaint  of  Cleon's  tutor  on 
the  harp,  that  his  pupil  could  apply  himself  to  nothing  but  the  Doric  measure 
in  music:  the  double  powers  of  the  language  thus  enabling  them  lo  raise  a 
smile  at  Cleon's  bribery  and  love  of  presents. 

*  The  humour  of  this  passage,  such  as  it  is,  must  be  sacrificed  to  the  explanation. 
When  a  married  woman  was  cited  to  appear  before  a  magistrate  at  Athens,  her  hus- 
band was  also  summoned  in  this  form,  tw  Suva,  nctt  tov  kv^kv,  i.  e.,  such  a  ivoman  and 
her  lord;  because  wives  being  under  the  government  of  their  husbands,  were  not 
permitted  to  appear  in  any  court  without  them.  Hence  the  allusion. — Smycythes 
was  a  king  of  Thrace :  the  poet,  falling  in  with  that  particular  law  term  in  the  text, 
by  which  a  summons  was  issued,  contrives  to  raise  a  laugh  at  the  effeminacy  of  Smy- 
cythes, as  if  he  had  been  the  lady,  instead  of  the  gentleman ; — a  mistake  which  the 
feminine  termination  of  his  name  favoured. 


or  the  demagogues.  137 

Chorus. 

That  day  of  all  shall  break  most  grateful 
To  this  and  future  generations; 
When  death  shall  take  our  chief  most  hateful, 
And  Cleon  end  his  usurpations. 
Yet  in  the  *Deigma  many  a  day, 
I  hear  our  crabbed  elders  say, 
With  face  where  age  and  verjuice  play 
And  wrestle ; 

That  Cleon  state  and  grandeur  losing, 
Our  town  two  weapons  were  misusing, 
Of  use  for  gathering  and  for  bruising, 

To  wit,  a  scoop  and  pestle. 

That  hands  like  Cleon's,  richly  gifted, 
To  compass  any  depths  should  fail, 
Is  what  with  wonder  most  uplifted 
I  hear,  and  scarce  believe  the  tale. 
And  yet  his  schoolmates  still  admire. 
What  sounds  broke  from  his  infant  lyre, 
And  still  they  tell  how  stung  with  ire. 

And  rage  plethoric, 

The  master-lutist  spurn'd  his  fee. 

And  chid  his  pupil  bitterly, 

"  Avaunt  that  harp  !  whose  only  key 

Is  tuned  to  the  Doric." 

The  Third  Act  is  much  calculated  to  try  the  unclassical  reader's  patience ; 
a  few  omissions  have  been  made  in  it,  that  the  task  might  be  rendered  as  light 
as  possible. 

•  The  Deigma  was  situated  in  the  Peirseus  and  answered  to  the  modern  'Change. 
Here  were  to  be  seen  strangers,  arriving  from  all  the  nations  situated  on  the  shores 
of  the  Mediterranean  and  the  Euxine  seas ;  and  as  if  to  prove  that  the  arts  more 
particularly  flourish  under  the  patronage  of  commerce,  no  part  of  Athens  was  more 
crowded  with  pictures  and  statues.  None  of  the  Athenians,  according  to  Aristotle, 
were  so  distinguished  for  their  urbanity  and  politeness  as  the  inhabitants  of  the 
Peirffius ;  it  is  there  accordingly  that  Plato  has  laid  the  scene  of  some  of  his  most 
beautiful  dialogues.  It  was  among  the  merchants,  the  bankers,  and  tlie  shipmasters 
at  the  Peirseus,  that  the  great  orator  Demosthenes  acquired  his  extensive  knowledge 
of  maritime  usury,  naval  contracts,  and  those  remarkable  subtleties  which  the  Greeks 
displayed  in  their  commercial  transactions.     Do  Pauw,  t.  i.  72.  208.  ii.  20. 


18 


138  THE  knights; 

ACT  III. 

SCENE  I. 

Cleon,  Sausage-seller,  Demcs,  Chorus. 

Cleon  (Jo  Demus.^  You  see,  sir,  what  I  *bear,  yet  forms  not  this 
The  whole. 

Saus.  (to  DemusJ)  I  am  a  thaw — a  dissolution — 
My  back  runs  oceans,  with  the  weight  of  pressure ; 
Yet  sum  not  these  the  half. 

Dem.  What  may  you  bear? 

Cleon.  Predictions — oracles. 

Dem.  What  all? 

Cleon.  Now  you 

Admire — and  yet  a  chest  possest  entire 
Is  left  behind ! 

Saus.  I  have  a  fgarret  stor'd 

With  them,  and  eke  two  dwelling  chambers  whole. 

Dem.  And  who  has  worded  these  ? 

Cleon.  Mine  come  from  Bacis, 

Dem.  (to  Saus.)  And  yours? 

Saus.  From  Glanis,  sir,  his  elder  brother. 

Dem.  And  what  may  they  relate  to  ? 

Cleon.  They  relate 

To  Athens  and  to  Pylus — to  yourself — 
To  me — to  everything. 

Dem.  (to  Saus.)  And  your's? 

Saus.  Mine  tell 

Of  Athens'  blooming  town,  and  paltry  lentils; — 
Of  Lacedaemon  and  of  dainty  mackarel; — 
They  speak  of  men,  who  play  the  subtle  trickster, 
As  they  mete  corn  at  Market. — They  relate 
To  you  and  me — (to  Cleon)  for  thee,  knave,  hang  thyself. 

Dem.  Now  mould  them  for  my  ears,  and  see  you  read 
That  first,  which  prophesies  my  after  glory. 
How  I  shall  lift  me  in  the  clouds  :{:an  eagle  I 
My  love  is  link'd  most  strangely  to  that  prophecy ! 

*  The  two  candidates  for  the  favour  of  Demus  enter,  labouring  under  a  weight  of 
oracles. 

■j-  The  modern  Greeks,  (says  Athenaeus,  lib.  ii.  p.  57,)  used  vre^cta  in  the  same 
sense  that  the  earlier  Greeks  used  ** :  which  signified  the  upper  part  of  the  house, 
and  also  an  egg.  Clearchus  says,  that  the  story  of  the  beautiful  Helen  having 
been  born  from  an  egg  was  derived  from  her  having  occupied  an  apartment  thus 
situated. 

^  Aristophanes  mentions  this  old  oracle,  so  gratifying  to  Athenian  pride  and  love 


{ 


OR    THE    DEMAGOGUES.  139 

Ckon.  It  shall  be  done,  sir, — list. 
(^Beads)  "  Predictions  are  come  from  Apollo's  blest  shrine: 
Let  the  son  of  *Erectheus  their  import  divine. 
A  dog  is  about  him,  that 's  mighty  to  bark ; 
His  wit  is  from  heaven,  his  tooth  from  a  shark ; 
Pay  and  gift  he  '11  provide,  if  well  guarded  his  days  ; — 
But  ravens  croak  hoarsely,  and  daws  clamour  raise." 

Bern.  This  lies  beyond  my  reach :  I  marvel  much 
Why  dogs  and  jackdaws  couple  with  Erectheus. 

Cleon.  The  dog,  sir,  points  to  me;  who  else  keeps  watch 
And  barks  1    Apollo  bids  that  you  preserve 
Your  dog. 

Saus,  Build  not  the  faith  of  oracles 
On  him  :  he  knows  them,  mighty  sir,  dog  fashion ; 
And  bites  them  like  a  cur,  that  gnaws  the  post 
He  's  tied  to :  I  have  here  a  prophecy 
That  speaks  (and  its  words  bear  the  stamp  of  truth) 
Respecting  this  same  dog. 

Dem.  Out  with  it  straight : 

I  '11  look  me  out  a  trusty  stone,  meantime, 
Lest  this  dog  oiacle  should  give  a  gripe. 

Saus.  (reads.)  "  Erectheus'  great  son,  let  thy  thoughts  musing  dwell 
On  the  slavedealing  dog,  that  fit  tenant  for  Hell. 
He  fawns  as  you  sup ;  but  your  eye  once  away. 
He  darts  on  your  bread,  and  your  fish  is  his  prey. 
The  fkitchen  and  pantry  at  night  see  his  tricks, 
And  a  plate,  or  an  island,  is  gone,  where  he  licks." 

Dem.  Success  to  Glanis :  trust  me,  he  speaks  most 
Unto  the  purpose. 

Cleon.  Dearest  Demus — hear 

Again,  then  judge  between  us : 

(^Eeads.)  "  In  Athens  the  sacred,  a  cry  's  heard  for  help  : 
A  woman  's  in  labour; — a  lion  her  whelp, 
For  warfare  he  's  born,  and  will  fight  by  the  great 
With  the  ants  and  the  gnats,  and  the  vermin  of  state. 

of  dominion,  in  two  or  three  of  his  comedies.     The  powers  of  the  German  language 
enable  Wieland  to  give  it  in  the  very  words  and  metre  of  the  original. 
Gluckliche  Stadt  der  Athene,  dcr  Siegverleihenden  Gottin, 
Vieles  hast  du  gesehn,  viel  geduUet,  viel  gearbeitet, 
Aber  du  wirst  auch  dafiir  ein  Adler  in  Wolken  auf  immer. 
It  was  in  the  spirit  of  this  lust  for  universal  empire,  that  this  ambitious  republic 
exacted  an  oath  of  all  her  young  men,  when  they  entered  the  military  service,  that 
they  would  improve  the  dominions  of  Athens  to  the  utmost  of  their  abilities,  "while 
there  were  vineyards  and  olive  trees  without  its  limits."     The  pleasantry  of  making 
Cleon  engage  to  recite  this  favourite  prediction  and  then  putting  one,  which  relates 
solely  to  his  own  interest,  into  his  mouth,  will  not  escape  the  reader. 

•  Erectheus  is  most  probably  known  to  the  reader,  as  an  ancient  king  of  Athens, 
f  By  the  kitchen  is  meant  the  Prytaneum:  in  the  following  Hne  occurs  one  of 
those  pleasantries  by  surprise,  which  so  often  meet  us  in  Aristophanes. 


140  THE    KXIGHTS; 

On  Gratitude  rests  it  this  guard  to  environ 
With  a  wall  of  stout  wood,  and  a  turret  of  iron." 

Dem.  Dost  reach  him  ?   {turning  to  the  Sausage-seller.') 

Saus.  Sir,  not  I. 

Ckon.  And  yet  the  God 

Speaks  clear.     I  am  the  lion,  and  I  claim 
Protection. 

Dem.  Good :  his  words  sure  stand  with  reason: 

Who  else  may  plead  ♦a  lion's  tooth  and  claws ! 

Saus.  Aye,  but  he  sinks  the  iron  wall  and  wood. 
Where  Phoebus  wills  that  you  hold  guard  of  him; 
And  thus  he  falsifies  the  exposition. 

Dem.  And  how  do  you  expound  it] 

Saus.  By  the  wood 

And  iron  wall  I  understand  the  pillory  : — 
The  oracle  enjoins,  he  takes  his  place  there. 

Dem.  And  I  subscribe  me  to  its  pleasure — 

Clean.  Nay, 

Not  so :  the  envious  crows  are  croaking  round  me ; 
(^Fawningly .)  Let  your  hawk  win  your  love ;  think  who  jbound  and  who 

bore 
The  young  Spartan  ravens  in  chains  to  your  shore. 

Saus.  The  man  was  in  his  cups,  when  he  achieved 
The  feat — and  what  so  wondrous  in  the  deed  ] — 
The  weakest  sex  can  bear  a  burthen,  be  it 
Once  lifted  to  :f;their  head.  {To  Demus.)     But,  sir,  I  have 
A  §prophecy  will  please  your  royal  ear : 
It  has  our  fleet  for  object. 

Dem.  I  'm  all  attention. 

{Sighs.)  Would  it  might  pay  our  crews  their  due  arrears! 

Saus.  {reads.)  "  A  riddle,  a  riddle  's  the  theme  of  my  story^ 
'T  is  a  dog  in  the  stern ;  't  is  a  ||fox  a  priori ; 

•  There  is  a  play  of  words  in  the  original,  calculated  to  raise  an  innocent  laugh 
at  one  Antileo.     I  have  given  a  substitute  for  it. 

■f  The  prisoners  made  at  Pylus  were  not  only  brought  in  chains  to  Athens,  but  a 
decree  of  the  people  ordained,  (Thuc.  1.  iv.  c.  41.)  that  they  should  be  kept  in  chains, 
till  some  arrangement  was  made  between  the  two  contending  states :  with  a  further 
provision,  that  if  the  Peloponncsians  in  the  interim  invaded  Attica,  the  prisoners 
should  immediately  be  put  to  death.  "  Such,"  says  Mr  Mitford,  "  were  at  that  time 
the  maxims  of  warfare  among  those  who  boasted  to  be  the  most  civilized,  and  indeed 
the  only  civilized  people  upon  earth ;  and  such  the  motives  for  preferring  death  in 
the  field  to  the  condition  so  mild,  in  modern  Europe,  except  in  France  since  the 
revolution,  of  a  prisoner  of  war." 

^  The  poet  insinuates,  that  Cleon  owed  his  success  at  Pylus  to  the  previous 
arrangements  of  Demosthenes.  The  scholiast  enters  into  a  long  explanation  of  the 
passage. 

§  An  old  oracle  respecting  Pylus  has  been  omitted.  It  is  introduced  only  for  the 
purpose  of  making  two  puns  on  propi/lseo7i,  a  forecourt,  and  pyelus,  a  bathing- 
vessel. 

11  By  the  fox-dog,  says  Casaubon,  is  meant  Cleon,  as  uniting  in  himself  the  worst 


OR    THE    DEMAGOGUES.  141 

Its  knowledge  is  various,  its  foot  swift  and  sure, 

And  its  gripe,  aini'd  in  secret,  leaves  nothing  secure." — 

Dost  comprehend  ? 

Dem.  No  further,  friend,  than  this  : 

That  your  fox-dog  must  mean  Philostratus  : 
None  couples  the  two  species  sure  but  he. 

Saus.  You  're  vicious  in  your  guess.     The  oracle 
Enjoins  you  grant  no  *tribute  gath'ring  ships, 
Nor  heed  the  Paphlagonian's  suit  for  them. 

Dem.  Why  calls  the  oracle  a  vessel  fox-dog? 

Saus.  With  reason  good  :  a  ship  is  swift,  and  what 
Is  swifter  than  a  dog? 

Dem.  Why  join  the  names 

Of  fox  and  dog? 

qualities  of  both  those  animals.  The  sarcasm  (with  a  passing  blow  upon  one  Philo- 
stratus, a  brothel  keeper)  is  directed  (where,  at  the  outset,  it  might  little  be  expected 
by  the  modern  reader)  against  that  particular  species  of  vessel,  which  the  Athenians 
employed  in  collecting  tribute  from  the  islanders!  This  part  of  Athenian  polity 
will  require  more  notice  than  the  light  raillery,  which  Aristophanes  has  ventured  to 
pass  upon  it:  the  practice  indeed  was  in  his  time  only  commencing, 

*  The  tribute  gathering  business,  as  Mr  Mitford  calls  it,  is  one  of  the  most  dis- 
gusting pictures,  among  the  many  which  Athenian  history  presents  to  us.  The 
words  of  Phocion,  when  sent  upon  this  odious  employment,  are  too  well  known  to 
need  mentioning;  but  Phocion  in  this,  as  in  other  matters,  stood  single  among  his 
countrymen.  The  commander  of  the  tribute  gathering  fleet,  says  the  English  histo- 
rian of  Greece,  made  his  own  terms  with  all  the  numerous  maritime  states  of  the 
shores  of  the  Mge&n.  Paying  him  as  he  required,  they  were  to  have  protection  for 
their  commerce:  not  so  paying,  they  would  he  open  to  depredation  from  pirates, 
especially  the  greatest  of  pirates,  the  commander  of  the  Athenian  fleet.  The  pecu- 
lation was  reduced  to  a  system.  Every  man  in  the  fleet,  according  to  his  rank,  had 
regularly  his  share.  The  treasury  profited  little:  but  every  individual  seaman  being 
interested  in  the  corruption,  and  the  fleet  being  a  large  part  of  the  commonwealth 
not  only  to  bring  any  to  punishment  was  seldom  possible,  but  the  peculator,  through 
the  interest  he  acquired  by  allowing  a  share  in  the  peculation,  was  generally  safer 
than  the  honest  commander,  who  would  dare  to  deny  to  those  under  him  the  wages 
of  corruption.  Hist,  of  Greece,  v,  vii.  376.  A  valuable  passage  from  the  speech  of 
Demosthenes  de  Chers,  translated  by  the  same  author,  admirably  confirms  this  state- 
ment. "  In  this  dilemma  of  the  republic,"  says  the  orator,  "  I  must  speak  openly : 
and  at  all  risk  for  the  consequences,  I  will  assure  you,  that  no  naval  commander 
ever  sails  from  your  harbours,  but  he  receives  presents.  They  come  from  the  Chians 
the  Erythrseans,  all  the  commercial  states  likely  to  be  within  reach  of  your  fleets:  I 
mean,  however,  the  Asiatic  only.  If  he  has  but  one  or  two  ships  under  his  orders 
he  has  something:  if  his  force  is  greater,  he  has  more  in  proportion.  The  pretence 
of  these  presents  is  goodwill  to  the  commander :  under  that  title  they  are  offered. 
But  those  states  you  may  be  sure,  none  of  them  give  this  money  for  nothing:  they 
pay  for  the  safety  of  their  commerce ;  that  their  ships  may  be,  not  plundered,  but 
protected."  v.  viii.  327.  The  infamous  Chares,  the  unworthy  associate  of  Demos- 
thenes, was  supposed  to  have  raised,  in  the  course  of  his  various  commands,  no  less 
than  1 500  talents,  near  300,000/.  which  he  distributed  among  his  favourite  olBcers 
and  supporting  orators. 


142  THE  knights; 

Saus.  To  part  them  were  to  separate 
The  ships  and  those  they  carry  in  them — sir — 
Oar  soldiers  are  the  foxes,  witness  many 
A  town  whose  grapes  have  feasted  them. 

Bern.  The  oracle 

Is  right — hut,  friend — money  runs  short,  and  foxes 
Abound — how  satisfy  them  all  1 

Saus.  Rest  that 

With  me  :  a  three  days'  pay  shall  be  allowed  them. 
(Reads.)  But  another  prediction  awaits  my  lord's  ear ; 
'T  is  Phoebus  that  warns — "  of  *Cyllene  beware." 

Dem.  Cyllene,  Cyllene,  (/o  Saus.)  how  this  undsrstandl 

Saus.  Cyllene  is  lameness,  and  means  a  maim'd  hand. 
To  Cleon's  apply  it; — as  with  bruise  or  with  maim — 
Still  't  is  bent  with — "  Your  honour,  drop  gift  in  the  same." 

Clean.  You  are  wrong;  when  maim'd  hands  are  the  point  in  dispute, 
Diopeithes  knows  best  how  to  settle  the  suit. 
But  enough — I  've  an  oracle  yet  to  declare. 
It  comes  from  the  clouds  and  is  borne  on  the  air. 
(To  Demus)  Like  an  eagle,  it  tells,  you  shall  spread  your  wide  wings, 
A  lord  over  monarchs,  a  king  over  kings. 

Saus.  (eagerly.)  I  've  the  same ;  while  a  clause  supplemental  extends 
Your  reign  to  the  Red  Sea,  and  earth's  jfarthest  ends; 
With  a  seat  on  the  bench  in  remote  Ecbatane, 
And  a  banquet  of  sweets,  while  the  suits  are  in  train. 

Clean.  I  have  seen  me  a  vision ;  I  've  dream'd  me  a  dream : 
Its  author  was  Pallas,  and  Demus  its  theme: 
The  cup  :|:aryt8ena  blaz'd  wide  in  her  hand, 
And  plenty  and  riches  fell  wide  o'er  the  land. 

Saus.  I  too  have  my  visions  and  dreams  of  the  night: 
Our  Lady  and  §owl  stood  confest  to  my  sight: 

•  Cyllene  was  a  city  of  Arcadia :  a  Greek  word  of  similar  sound  signifies  a  lamed 
hand.  The  poet  is  preparing  a  blow  at  Cleon's  corruption  and  love  of  bribes :  the 
blow  is  also  made  to  fall  upon  Diopeithes,  whose  hand  appears  to  have  been  maimed 
in  some  discreditable  exploit. 

f  An  allusion  has  already  been  made  to  a  singular  oath,  which  was  taken  by  the 
young  men  of  Athens,  before  they  went  upon  an  expedition.  It  was  taken  in  the 
temple  of  Agraulos,  and  implied,  that  they  would  consider  wheat  and  barley,  and 
vines  and  olives  to  be  the  limits  of  Attica;  by  which,  says  Plutarch,  they  were  taught 
to  claim  a  title  to  all  lands  that  were  manured  and  fruitful.     Life  of  Alcibiades. 

^  The  arytasna  was  a  sort  of  cup  or  vessel  used  to  draw  water  with. 

§  A  gentleman  who  can  bring  the  most  profound  erudition  to  the  aid  of  his  re- 
searches, has  remarked  that  the  owl  was  very  properly  made  the  symbol  of  Minerva, 
Cthe  pure  emanation  of  the  divine  mind,)  as  it  is  a  bird  which  seems  to  surpass  all 
other  creatures  in  acuteness  and  refinement  of  organic  perception ;  its  eye  being  cal- 
culated to  discern  objects  which,  to  all  others,  are  enveloped  in  darkness ;  its  ear  to 
hear  sounds  distinctly,  when  no  other  can  perceive  them  at  all;  and  its  nostrils  to 
discriminate  effluvia  with  such  nicety,  that  it  has  been  deemed  prophetic  from  dis- 
covering the  putridity  of  death,  even  in  the  first  stages  of  disease.  R.  P.  Knight's 
Inquiry  into  the  Symbolical  Language  of  Ancient  Art  and  Mythology. 


OR   THE    DEMAGOGUES.  143 

From  the  cup  *aryballus  choice  blessings  she  threw, 

On  him  (^turning  to  Cleon)  fell  tanpickle,  and  nectar  on  you  (Jo  Demus). 

If  the  reader  has  been  content  to  follow  me  through  these  oracles  and  pre- 
dictions, he  will  probably  come  to  the  same  conclusions  with  Demus ;  that  of 
the  two  prophets,  Glanis  is  much  the  wiser  man.  One  only  resource  now  re- 
mained for  Cleon.  The  nation  which  ranked  cookery  among  the  liberal  arts, 
and  whose  mythical  fables  sent  Hercules  to  the  relief  of  Prometheus  (the 
emblem  of  afflicted  humanity,  according  to  W.  Schlegel)  in  a  wine  cup,  had 
other  appetites  to  be  gratified  besides  a  love  of  power  and  dominion  ;  and  Cleon 
determines  to  appeal  from  his  master's  hopes  and  fears  to  the  humbler  gratifi- 
cations of  his  palate.  The  first  attack  is  made  through  the  medium  of  barley, 
and  the  offer  of  providing  him  daily  sustenance — but  the  bare  mention  of 
barley  is  offensive  to  Demus — he  had  been  deceived  enough  already  on  that 
point  by  Cleon  and  f  Thuphanes.  An  offer  of  prepared  wheat  does  not  pro- 
pitiate him  more.  The  Sausage-vender  is  both  more  delicate  and  profuse :  the 
banquet  which  he  proposes  to  lay  before  his  master  is  to  consist  of  little 
puddings  well  baked,  and  broiled  fish;  and  his  life,  as  this  aspirant  to  favour 
declares,  shall  be  nothing  but  a  scene  of  mastication.  The  imagination  of 
Demus  begins  to  open  to  the  flattering  prospect. 

Dem.  About  it  straight  then,  and — observe — 

Who  caters  best  and  offers  me  most  presents, 
To  him  I  give  the  state  and  all  its  harness. 

Cleon  (running.)  Sayst  thou?  I  'm  on  my  legs,  and  start  this  instant. 

Saus.  (running  faster.)  I  've  left  already  longer  space  behind  me. 

SCENE  II. 

Chorus,  Demus. 

Chor.  :|:Honour,  power  and  high  estate, 
Demus,  mighty  §1ord,  hast  thou  ! 
To  thy  sceptre  small  and  great 
In  obeisance  lowly  bow! — 

•  The  aryballns  was  a  vessel  shaped  like  a  purse,  broad  at  bottom  and  narrow  at 
top.  On  the  names  and  properties  of  Greek  vases  of  every  description,  the  reader 
may  consult  the  eleventh  book  of  Athenseus.  That  those  beautiful  specimens  of  art, 
which  still  excite  the  utmost  admiration,  should  have  been  highly  prized  by  a  people, 
whose  niceness  of  organic  perception  best  enabled  them  to  appreciate  their  merits, 
forms  no  subject  of  wonder :  but  a  smile  is  excited,  when  we  find  that  one  man 
(Pytheas  of  Phigalia)  carried  his  admiration  of  them  so  far,  as  to  leave  an  epitaph 
for  bis  tomb  behind  him,  (vid.  Athcn.  1.  xi.  p.  465.)  in  which  it  was  considered  less 
a  point  that  posterity  should  be  made  acquainted  with  his  goodness  and  his  temper- 
ance, (virtues  which  it  appears  really  belonged  to  him,)  than  that  he  died  possessed 
of  more  vases  of  every  description  than  any  of  his  predecessors. 

•j-  Thuphanes,  according  to  the  scholiast,  was  a  secretary  of  Cleon ;  what  particular 
transaction  is  here  alluded  to,  the  scholiast  does  not  mention. 

%  The  measure,  to  which  this  little  dialogue  has  been  adapted,  is  borrowed  from 
one  of  those  ballads  of  Campbell's,  which  make  every  pulse  in  his  readers  beat,  and 
which  the  maritime  Genius  of  our  island  seems  to  have  dictated  to  that  admirable  poet. 

§  In  the  original  the  term  is  tyrant ;  and  very  justly :  the  true  Demus  of  Athens 


144  THE  knights; 

Yet  you  're  easy  to  his  hand  whoever  cringes ; 
Ev'ry  fool  you  gape  upon, 
Ev'ry  *speech  your  ear  hath  won, 
While  your  wits  move  off  and  on 
Their  hinges. 
Dem.  {surlihi.)  Hinges  in  their  teeth,  who  deem 
That  Demus  is  an  easy  fool; 
If  he  yawn  and  if  he  dream. 
If  he  tipple,  't  is  by  rule; 
'T  is  his  way  to  keep  in  pay  one  knave  to  ease  him ; — 
Him  he  keeps  for  guide  and  gull, 
But  when  once  the  spunge  is  full. 
To  himself  the  knave  he  '11  pull, 

And  jsqueeze  him. 
Chor,  I  can  feel,  and  I  commend 

This  your  wisdom's  sign  and  seal; 
If  it  own  a  proper  end. 

If  with  public  men  you  deal. 
As  with  scapegoat  and  the  land's  devoted  sinner; 
If  you  lodge  them  in  the  :|:Pnyx, 

united  in  himself  all  the  powers  of  government,  legislative,  executive,  financial  and 
judicial,  which,  as  Montesquieu  observes,  constitutes  the  very  essence  of  tyranny. 
See  the  Areiopagitic  Oration  of  Isocrates,  v.  i.  p.  288. 

*  This  trait  in  the  character  of  the  Athenian  people  is  painted  with  admirable 
force  by  Thucydides,  (Lib.  iii.  s.  38.)  in  a  passage  excellently  and  closely  translated 
by  Hobbes.  The  sentiments  in  the  original  are  put  into  the  mouth  of  Cleon,  that 
the  historian,  without  violating  the  impartiality  which  he  so  strictly  observes,  may 
have  an  opportunity  of  describing  that  demagogue  indirectly  through  the  speech  of 
his  opponent  Diodorus. 

«  It  is  your  custom  to  be  spectators  of  words  and  hearers  of  actions,  beholding 
future  actions  in  the  words  of  them  that  speak  well,  as  possible  to  come  to  pass;  and 
actions  already  past  in  the  orations  of  such  as  make  the  most  of  them,  and  that  with 
such  assurance  as  if  what  you  saw  with  your  eyes  were  not  more  certain  than  what 
you  hear  related.  You  are  excellent  men  for  one  to  deceive  with  a  speech  of  a  new 
strain  but  backward  to  follow  any  tried  advice :  slaves  to  strange  things,  contemners 
of  things  usual.  You  would  every  one  chiefly  give  the  best  advice,  but  if  you  can- 
not, then  you  will  contradict  those  that  do.  You  would  not  be  thought  to  come  after 
with  your  opinion  ;  but  rather  if  anything  be  acutely  spoken,  to  applause  it  first,  and 
to  appear  ready  apprchenders  of  what  is  spoken,  even  before  it  be  out ;  but  slow  to 
preconceive  the  sequel  of  the  same.  You  would  hear,  as  one  may  say,  somewhat 
else  than  what  our  life  is  conversant  in ;  and  yet  you  sufficiently  understand  not 
that  that  is  before  your  eyes.  And  to  speak  plainly,  overcome  with  the  delight  of 
the  ear,  you  are  rather  like  unto  spectators,  sitting  to  hear  the  contentions  of  sophists, 
than  to  men  that  deliberate  the  state  of  a  commonwealth." 

+  The  marks  of  kindred,  which  Mr  Mitford  (vol.  v.  p.  22,)  notices  between  the 
Turkish  despotism  and  the  Athenian  democracy,  are  probably  founded  on  this  pas- 
sage of  Aristophanes. 

t  This  alludes  to  a  custom  practised  among  the  ancients  for  averting  famine, 
plague,  or  any  epidemic  disorder.    A  man  and  woman  were  entertained  at  the  public 


OR    THE    DEMAGOGUES.  145 

Then  when  fit  occasion  pricks, 
On  the  fattest  there  you  fix 

For  a  dinner. 

Dem.  Hear  and  own,  that  I  have  known 
To  circumvent  when  prest ; 
Eyes  I  close  and  seem  to  doze. 
But 't  is  dog  sleep  at  the  best; 
"While  the  varlets  fondly  cram  I  'm  heedful : 
For  the  learned  in  the  law 
Know  with  *camus  I  can  draw. 
As  with  probe  from  throat  or  maw, 
What 's  needful. 

With  this  |dialogue  ends  the  third  act;  if  Aristophanes  have  no  other  merit, 

expense,  who  might  serve  upon  occasion  as  expiatory  victims,  each  for  his  own  sex. 
The  ceremony  was  to  march  them  round  the  streets  to  the  sound  of  instruments,  to 
give  them  a  few  stripes  with  rods,  and  then  make  them  leave  the  city.  Sometimes 
the  unfortunate  pair  were  burnt,  and  their  ashes  thrown  into  the  sea.  A  practice 
somewhat  similar  seems  to  have  prevailed  at  Aries.  "  In  that  part  of  the  town  of 
Aries,  called  La  Roquette,"  says  Mr  Thicknesse,  "  I  was  shown  the  place  where 
formerly  stood  an  elevated  altar,  whereon  three  young  citizens  were  sacrificed  an- 
nually, and  who  were  fiittcned  at  the  public  expense  for  a  whole  year,  for  that  horrid 
purpose  !  On  the  first  of  May  their  throats  were  cut  in  the  presence  of  a  prodigious 
multitude  of  people,  assembled  from  all  parts ;  among  whom  the  blood  of  the  victim 
was  thrown,  for  they  weakly  imagined  that  their  sins  were  expiated  by  this  barba- 
rous practice."  Thicknesse's  Journey,  vol.  ii.  p.  18.  See  also  the  French  Anachar- 
sis,  t.  iii.  p.  409. 

*  The  caimts  was  a  little  funnel,  through  which  the  dicasts  cast  into  the  urns  the 
beans,  which  were  to  decide  upon  the  acquittal  or  condemnation  of  prisoners. 

f  The  following  note  is  rather  longer  than  has  been  usually  allowed  in  the  present 
work;  but  the  translator  feels  that  some  apology  is  due  for  the  inadequate  manner 
in  which  this  little  dialogue  is  rendered,  and  he  is  happy  to  do  it  in  the  words  of  a 
writer  who,  with  talents  to  which  he  has  no  pretensions,  feels  it  necessary  to  make 
the  same  excuse,  and  in  part  advances  the  same  cause  of  failure,  viz.,  the  difference 
of  language.  The  note  is  the  more  readily  inserted,  as  the  reader  will  perceive  that 
a  little  use  has  been  made  of  a  small  part  of  it  in  the  preface  to  this  play. 

"  Ohne  mir,  wie  der  mahler  in  Lessings  Emilia  Galotti,  viel  darauf  einzubil- 
den,  dass  ich  weiss,  was  und  wie  viel  von  den  feinsten  Schbnheiten,  Atticismen, 
Anspielungen,  Wendungen,  Schattirungen  und  Druckern  des  Originals  in  meiner 
Kopie  verlohren  geht,  und  wie  und  warum  es  verlohren  geht,  verkiimmert  mir 
das  blosse  Gefiihl,  dass  soviel  (nicht  immer  durch  meine  schuld)  verlohren 
geht  und  verlohren  gehen  muss,  alle  Freude  an  dem  was  hie  und  da  viel- 
leicht  gelungen  ist.  Dies  ist  ganz  besonders  bey  den  intermezzen  der  Cuore 
der  Fall,  die  gerade  das  schonstc  in  diesem  Dichter  sind.  Unliiugbar  liegt  eine 
der  hauptursachen,  warum  ein  TIbersetzer  des  Aristofanes  cin  so  boses  spiel  hat, 
in  seiner  Sprache.  Was  ich  gegeben  babe,  "  steckt  dem  Dieb  die  Sonde  in  Rachen," 
sagt  nicht  die  hiilfte  dessen,  was  der  Dichter  mit  den  zwey  worten  *j)^5v  KxretfAitkm 
darstcUt,  und  es  brauchte,  um  sie  zu  erklaren,  eine  lange  und  tadiose  note,  die  der 
19 


146  THE  knights; 

at  least  it  cannot  be  denied  that  he  thoroughly  understood  the  character  and 
brutal  feelings  of  a  mob;  for  an  ochlocracy  is  the  same  in  all  countries, — 
grasping,  supercilious,  arrogant  and  overbearing, — winking  at  iniquities  by 
which  themselves  are  to  be  profited,  and  only  just  because  they  are  selfish. 


ACT  IV. 

SCENE  I. 

Cleon,  Sausage-vender,  Demus,  Chorus. 

Cleon  (Jo  Saus.)  Off,  knave  !  and  feast  the  *crows. 

Griechischgelehrte  nicht  bedarf,  and  wobey  die  andern  leser  nichts  gewannen. 
Eben  so  ist  es  in  der  ersten  strofe  des  Demos  mit  dem  worte  ^puxKnv  in  der  Stelle, 
iIi/TOf  T6  y^f  iiSofjLAi  ^puKKCDV  TO  xaS"'  «^£/)*v,  das  in  den  zuhbrern  sogleich  das  Bild  eines 
kiirzlich  gebohrnen  Sauglings  erweckte,  und  so  schbn  dazu  hilft,  die  dumpfe 
Behaglichkeit  des  clivino  far  fiiente  auszudrlicken.  Denn  gewiss  meynte  Aristo- 
fanes  mehr  damit,  als  potitare  in  dies,  oder  gobeleter  tons  les  jours.  Das  ganze 
leben  des  suveriinen  volks  zu  Athen  war,  so  zu  sagen,  nichts  anders  als  ein  immer- 
wahrendes  nippen  und  nicken,  schnappen,  gaffen,  auf  horchen,  witzeln,  necken,  hin 
und  herflattern ;  ein  Leben  ohne  Plan,  und  ohne  zweck,  ohne  wahre  Thatigkeit 
und  ohne  wirklichen  Genuss,  unter  ewigem  Streben  nach  heyden,  mitten  in  den 
Zerstreuungen  der  albernsten  Langeweile,  hingetraumt.  Hiezu  giebt  kein  anderer 
Autor  so  viele  und  starke  Belege  als  Aristofanes.  Freylich  war  dies  nicht  immer 
der  Karakter  der  Bewohner  der  Minerven  stadt  gewesen;  und  man  kbnnte  nicht 
ohne  Grund  bchaupten,  dass  sie  erst  durch  den  vollen  Gebrauch  ihrer  volkssuverani- 
tiit,  unter  den  heillosen  Demagogen,  die  auf  den  Perikles  folgten,  so  schlecht 
geworden,  wis  sie  sich  im  Verlauf  des  Peloponnesischen  Krieges  gezeigt  haben, 
und  wie  unser  Dichter  sie  in  alien  seinem  StUcken,  besonders  in  diesem  und  in  deii 
Wespen  und  Vogeln  darstellt.  Auch  das  ist  ein  Meisterzug  im  Karakter  des 
Athenischen  Suverans,  dass  Demos  sich  fiir  einen  machtigen  Politikus  halt,  weil  er 
sich  von  seinem  Ministern  betrligen  und  bestehlen  liisst  um  sie  hernach  wieder 
ausdrllcken  zu  kbnnen. — (Die  Ritter  des  Arist.  ubersetzt  von  Wieland.)  The  allu- 
sions, contained  in  this  note,  to  the  delicate  beauties  of  language,  Attic  spirit,  play 
of  words,  ingenious  turns,  and  shades  of  character,  exhibited  in  the  original  of  this 
truly  Aristophanic  little  dialogue,  are  such  as  might  be  expected  from  the  author  of 
Oberon :  his  tippling,  boozing,  muddle-headed,  snapping,  gaping,  jeering,  egging, 
volatile,  fluttering  Demus,  who  considers  it  as  a  master  stroke  in  politics  to  let  his 
ministers  cheat  him  and  steal,  that  he  may  be  the  gainer  by  their  thefts,  presents  no 
trait  of  character,  which  the  writings  of  the  author  whom  he  translates,  do  not  justify. 
The  reader,  who  wishes  for  further  classical  authority  for  some  of  these  features  of 
character  in  the  sovereign  multitude  of  Athens,  may  consult  Plato's  Apologia, 
p.  364.  (G.)  his  first  Alcibiades,  p.  36.  (H.)  and  the  eighth  book  of  his  Republic, 
p.  498. — Edit.  Mars.  Ficini. 

*  The  crows  appear  to  have  been  in  great  disfavour  with  the  A  thenians  ;  they  had 


OR    THE    DEMAGOGUES.  147 

Saus,  On  your  own  head 

Fall  the  ill  wish ! 

Clean.  Demus,  I  wait  a  week 

With  hands  prepar'd  to  show'r  my  gifts  upon  you. 

Saus.  And  I  a  month — a  year — a  century — 
Time  out  of  mind,  mind,  mind. 

Dem.  And  I  wait  here 

Expecting  your  large  promises,  and  venting 
Curses  on  both  {mimics')  before  creation, — ation — ation. 

Saus.  {Jo  Demus.)  Know'st  what  to  do? 

Dem,  Your  wisdom  can  advise  me. 

Saus.  Start  him  and  me,  observe,  as  from  the  barriers : 
We  '11  run  a  race  as  't  were,  who  most  can  give  you. 

Dem.  'T  is  well  advised :  one — two — three — away! 

Saus.  We  're  gone. 

Dem.  Run  quick. 

Clean.  I  dare  him  to  outstrip  me. 

[  Exeunt  Clean  and  Saus. 

Dem.  {sohis.)  I  must  be  dainty  nice  indeed,  if  such 
A  pair  of  lovers  do  not  satisfy  me! 

Such  was  the  humour  of  the  Old  Comedy :  it  must  be  confessed  that  we 
have  improved  largely  both  in  our  notions  of  wit  and  humour.     The  rival 

the  fce-simplc  of  all  that  society  wished  to  eject  from  itself;  and  thus  stood  to  the 

Greeks  somewhat  in  the  relation  of  that  malignant  person,  who,  according  to  Rabe- 
lais, breakfasts  on  the  souls  of  sergeants-at-law  fricasseed.     The  following  song  will 

show,  that  this  dislike  to  the  crow  did  not  prevail  universally  among  the  Greeks, 
but  that  the  same  use  was  made  in  some  parts  of  the  crow,  as  in  others  was  made 
of  the  swallow. 

Lords  and  ladies,  for  your  ear.  May  thy  sire  in  aged  ease 
We  have  a  petitioner.  Nurse  a  boy  who  calls  thee  mother; 
Name  and  lineage  would  you  know? —  And  his  grandam  on  her  knees 
'T  is  Apollo's  child,  the  crow  ;  Rock  a  girl  who  calls  him  brother; — 
Waiting  till  your  hands  dispense  Kept  as  bride  in  reservation 
Gift  of  barley,  bread  or  pence.  For  some  favour'd  near  relation. — 
Be  it  but  a  lump  of  salt ;  But  enough  now  :  I  must  tread. 
His  is  not  the  mouth  to  halt.  Where  my  feet  and  eyes  are  led ; 
Nought  that  's  proffer'd  he  denies :  Dropping  at  each  door  a  strain, 
Long  experience  makes  him  wise.  Let  me  lose  my  suit  or  gain. 
Who  today  gives  salt,  he  knows.  Then   search,  worthy  gentles,  the  cup- 
Next  day  fig  or  honey  throws. —  board's  close  nook  : 
Open,  open  gate  and  door :  To  the  lord  and  still  more  to  the  lady  we 
Mark !  the  moment  we  implore,  look : 

Comes  the  daughter  of  the  squire.  Custom  warrants  the  suit — let  it  still  then 

With  such  figs  as  wake  desire. —  bear  sway  ; 

Maiden,  for  this  favour  done  And  your  crow  as  in  duty  most  bounden 

May  thy  fortunes,  as  they  run,  shall  pray. 

Ever  brighten — be  thy  spouse  Mhen.  lib.  viii.  p,  359. 
Rich  and  of  a  noble  house  ; 


148  THE  knights; 

candidates  now  commence  their  contest  of  presents — they  consist  chiefly  of 
culinary  articles,  and  that  everlasting  dish,  the  affair  at  Pylus,  is  again  served 
up  to  the  worthy  Demus,  whom  the  poet  seems  resolved  to  satiate  with  the 
only  exploit  which  Cleon  ever  accomplished.  There  is  so  much  play  of 
words  in  this  short  scene,  that  it  would  be  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  render 
it  satisfactory  to  the  Engrllsh  reader.  Aristophanes,  like  the  French  Piron,  is 
sometimes  a  mere  machine  for  throwing  out  puns,  squibs,  sarcasms,  pleas- 
antries, and  play  of  words.  He  is  a  firework  discharging  the  most  brilliant 
scintillations  on  all  sides,  but  their  effect  is  lost,  if  analysed  or  contemplated 
too  curiously.  The  Sausage-vender  has  the  advantage  of  his  rival  for  some 
time  in  his  presents,  till  Cleon  awakens  his  fears  by  talking  of  a  dish  of  hare, 
which  he  has  exclusively  to  present.  His  rival,  disconcerted  at  first,  has 
recourse  to  a  stratagem.  "  Some  ambassadors  came  this  way  to  me,  and  their 
purses  seem  well  Jilled.''''  "  Where  are  they  ]"  exclaims  Cleon  eagerly,  and 
turns  about.  The  hareflesh  was  immediately  in  the  hands  of  his  rival,  who 
presents  the  boasted  dainty  in  his  own  name  to  Demus,  and  he  of  course  casts 
the  old  affair  of  Pylus  in  the  disappointed  Cleon's  teeth. 

While  the  Sausage-vender  piously  refers  the  suggestion  of  this  little  theft 
to  Minerva,  and  modestly  takes  the  execution  only  to  himself,  Cleon  resents 
the  surprise  very  warmly.  "  I  had  all  the  danger  of  catching  the  hare,"  says 
he,  referring  to  his  predecessor  Demosthenes.  "  And  I  had  all  the  trouble  of 
dressing  it,"  says  his  rival.  "  Fools,"  says  Demus,  in  the  true  spirit  of  Athe- 
nian and  democratical  selfishness,  "I  care  not  who  caught  it,  nor  who  dressed 
it;  all  I  regard  is  the  hand  which  serves  it  up  to  table."  A  conscious  feeling 
of  inferiority  now  comes  over  Cleon,  and  one  of  those  powerful  words,  which 
the  Greek  language  only  supplies,  expresses  his  fears,  that  the  race  is  against 
him,  and  that  he  shall  be  distanced  in  impudence.  His  rival  proposes  a  new 
lest  of  affection.  "  Let  our  chests,"  says  he,  "  be  searched.  It  will  then  be 
proved  who  loves  Demus  most:"  or,  in  the  Sausage-vender's  own  words, 
"  who  is  the  better  man  towards  Demus  and  his  stomach."  This  is  accord- 
ingly done.  That  of  the'  new  candidate  for  power  is  found  empty.  "  He  had 
given  dear  little  Demus  everything."  In  Cleon's  is  found  abundance  of  all 
good  things ;  and  a  tempting  cheesecake  particularly  excites  Demus's  surprise. 
"The  rogue!"  says  this  representative  of  the  sovereign  multitude,  " to  con- 
ceal such  a  prodigious  cheesecake  as  this,  and  to  cut  me  off  but  a  mere  morsel 
of  it;  and  that,  too,"  subjoins  the  complainant,  changing  his  *dialect  for  a 
reason  which  the  learned  reader  will  appreciate,  "  after  I  had  made  him  a 
present  of  a  chaplet,  and  added  many  other  douceurs  besides  !"  Cleon  in  vain 
pleads  that  he  stole  for  the  good  of  the  country.  He  is  ordered  to  lay  down 
his  fchaplet  and  invest  his  antagonist  with  it.  Nay,  says  he,  still  struggling 
for  the  retention  of  office, 

Cleon.  I  have  an  oracle, — it  came  from  Phoebus, 
And  tells  to  whom  Fate  wills  I  yield  the  mastery. 

*  The  change  is  made  from  the  Attic  to  the  Doric  dialect ;  and  a  hearty  laugh 
no  doubt  accompanied  this  sudden  and  significant  allusion  to  the  demagogue's  cor- 
ruption and  love  of  presents, 

■\  Cleon,  according  to  the  scholiast,  had  received  a  chaplet  in  full  assembly  from 
the  people;  with  the  privilege  perhaps  attached  of  wearing  it  on  all  occasions. 


OR   THE    DEMAGOGUES.  149 

Saus.  Declare  the  name — my  life  upon  't — the  god 
Refers  to  me.* 

Cleon.  Presumptuous  ! — you  !  — low  scoundrel ! 

To  the  proof: — where  were  you  school'd,  and  who  the  teacher 
That  first  imbued  your  infant  mind  with  knowledge? 

Saus.  The  kitchen  and  the  scullery  gave  me  breeding; 
And  teacher  I  had  none  save  blows  and  cuffs. 

Cleon  (^aside.)  My  mind  misgives  me:  what  am  I  deliver'd  ! 
But  pass  we  on  :  {ciloud)  say  further  what  the  fwrestling  master 
Instructed  you] 

Saus.  To  steal — to  look  the  injured 

Straight  in  the  face,  and  then  forswear  the  theft. 

Cleon  (aside.)  Angels:}:  and  ministers  of  grace  protect  me! 
(^Jloud)  Unclasp  what  art  or  trade  your  manhood  practis'd. 

Saus.  I  dealt  in  sausages. 

Cleon.  Aught  more? 

Saus.  I  found 

The  bagnios  employment. 

Cleoti  (aside.')  I  'm  undone. 

One  only  hope  remains,  (aloud)  Resolve  me — practis'd  you 
Within  the  market  place,  or  at  the  §gatcs? 

Saus.  Nay,  at  the  gates,  among  the  men  who  deal 
In  salted  fish. 

Cleon.  All  is  accomplished. 

It  is  the  will  of  heav'n :  bear  me  within  : — 
A  long  farewell  to  all  my  former  greatness ! 
Adieu, II  fair  chaplet!  'gainst  my  will  I  quit  thee, 
And  give  thy  matchless  sweets  to  other  hands  !  — 
There  may  be  knaves  more  fortunate  than  I, 
But  never  shall  the  world  see  thief  more  rascally. 

Saus.  (devoutly.)  Thine  be  the  triumph,  Jove^  Ellanian  ! 

*  Brumoy  observes,  that  the  anagnosis,  by  which  Clcon's  successor  in  office  is 
pointed  out,  is  a  parody^TJn  the  well  known  scene  in  the  Oedipus  Tyrannus,  where 
the  incestuous  parricide  is  so  skilfully  brought  to  light. 

■\  The  vuiitoTpifiii;,  or  wrestling  master,  succeeded  the  ■yfu.fAfAxrtTn;  and  Kid-upi^m. 

i   Cleon  parodies  the  Bellcrophon  of  Euripides. 

§  The  lowest  tradesmen  only  practised  at  the  gates  of  the  town  :  every  answer  is 
made  to  show  the  utter  baseness  of  Clcon's  rival,  and  thus  to  place  himself  in  the 
most  ignominious  light. 

II  Parodied  from  the  description  of  the  dying  Alccstcs  taking  leave  of  her  bridal 
bed. 

Tf  Jupiter  was  worshipped  at  ^Egina  under  this  title  upon  the  following  occasion. 
A  great  drought  prevailed  in  that  island,  which  had  nearly  brought  the  people  to 
ruin.  By  the  united  prayers  of  the  Pan  Hellenes  (or  universal  Greeks)  to  Jupiter, 
this  affliction  was  removed.  It  was  while  making  excavations  in  x^gina,  in  order 
to  ascertain  the  proportions  of  the  temple  of  Jupiter  Panhcllcnius,  that  the  pieces  of 
sculpture  were  dug  up,  which  have  so  much  exercised  the  ingenuity  of  the  learned. 


150  THE  knights; 

SCENE  II. 

Agoracritus,  Chorus,  Demus. 

Cho.  Joy 

And  gratulation  to  our  friend ;  bear  he 
In  mem'ry's  tablet,  't  is  to  us  he  owes 
These  proofs  of  manhood.  (Jo  Jlgor.)   Worthy  sir,  I  have 
A  small  request — the  place  which  Phanus  holds — 
I  am  your  suitor  for  the  same,  and  fain 
Would  sign  your  writs.* 

Dem.  And  I  have  my  request — 

How  runs  your  name  ? 

Jlgor.  They  call  me  [Agoracritus, 

And  justly;  for  my  livelihood  and  bread, 
r  the  forum  have  been  earn'd  by  litigation. 

•  There  is  something  very  humorous  in  this  readiness  of  the  Chorus  to  make  use 
of  their  friend's  advancement, 

■\  Enough  already  has  been  said  of  the  Athenian  Agora,  to  give  some  idea  of  what 
this  name  is  meant  to  convey.  A  translation  of  part  of  the  sixth  of  Theophrastus's 
characters  will  convey  the  idea  still  more  fully ;  the  author  seems  to  have  had  the 
Agoracritus  of  our  author  in  his  eye,  when  he  wrote  it.  The  picture  itself  is  such 
as  a  republic  only  could  furnish,  and  something  like  a  parallel  to  it  might,  I  believe, 
be  still  found  in  the  free  states  of  America.  "  A  man  of  desperate  impudence  is  one 
whom  it  costs  nothing  to  say  and  to  do  the  most  disgraceful  actions.  He  is  quick 
at  an  oath,  has  no  reputation  to  lose,  and  may  be  affronted  with  impunity.  For  his 
manners — they  are  those  of  a  man  from  the  agora ;  he  displays  all  that  others  con- 
ceal, and  in  everything  that  is  done  he  must  have  a  share.  He  is  of  all  trades :  to- 
day he  keeps  a  tavern,  tomorrow  a  bagnio,  and  the  next  day  he  has  some  office  in 
the  public  farms.  There  is  no  occupation  of  which  he  thinks  the  exercise  disgrace- 
ful. He  is  alternately  a  public  cryer,  a  cook,  and  a  gambler.  If  he  have  a  mother 
living,  he  leaves  her  unsupported ;  he  is  dragged  through  the  city  by  a  rope  for  theft, 
and  he  spends  more  days  in  the  public  prison  than  he  does  in  his  own  house.  This 
is  the  man  who  has  always  a  crowd  about  him ;  who  calls  to  every  one  that  passes, 
addressing  them  in  a  loud  and  hoarse  tone,  and  assailing  them  with  reproaches.  He 
is  ever  involved  in  lawsuits,  either  as  defendant  or  plaintiff:  in  the  former  case  he 
excuses  his  appearance  by  a  false  oath,  in  the  latter  he  appears  with  his  \echiims  in 
his  bosom,  and  a  bundle  of  forensic  papers  in  his  hand.  The  most  remarkable 
characteristic  of  his  impudence  is,  that  he  is  at  the  head  of  all  the  petty  dealers  in 
the  agora — he  lends  them  money  upon  usury,  and  receives  daily  for  a  drachma 
three  half  obols — he  frequents  the  cookshops,  and  the  stalls  where  fish,  as  well  salt 
as  fresh,  are  sold ;  and  the  money  which  he  receives  on  interest  he  puts  into  his 
mouth.  Men  of  this  kind  are  difficult  to  deal  with :  for  their  mouth  easily  breaks 
forth  into  revilings,  and  they  speak  with  so  loud  a  voice  that  the  forum  and  the 
workshops  ring  again  with  it," 

t  The  echinus  was  a  large  vessel  in  which  all  the  papers  connected  with  tlie  future  process  were 
deposited. 


OR    THE    DEMAGOGUES.  151 

Dem.  To  Agoracritus  I  now  commit  me : 
And  with  myself  I  give  unto  liis  ciiarge 
Tliis  Paphlagonian  here. 

Jignr.  And  bravely  will  I 

Maintain  thee,  Deraus — your  own  lips  shall  testify, 
That  you  have  never  seen  a  better  nor 
A  wiser  man  in  this  our  town* — Cechenian. 

SEMI-CnORUS.f 

Where  shall  praise  and  commendation 

Make  their  lasting  habitation, 

But  with  them,  whose  steeds  though  spent 

Still  are  on  their  topmost  benti — 

In  beginning  and  in  ending, 

Muse,  then  let  thy  high  commending 

With  our  noble  Horsemen  rest. 
Take  no  part. 

From  mere  gaiety  of  heart, 

'Gainst  Lysistratus  the  supple ; 
Nor  the  smart 

Of  satire  with  Thaumantis  couple. 

'T  is  a  wretch  beyond  a  jest. 
With  famine  and  leanness  his  meals  he  has  made, 
And  when  Delphi  he  seeks  in  the  course  of  his  trade. 
And  with  sighs  and  with  tears  the  god's  favour  would  win, 
His  strength  tops  the  quiver,  but  fails  at  the  chin. 

Full  Chorus. 
Guilty  men  to  taunt  with  satire  is  no  subject  for  reproof: 
Sober  men  the  deed  will  honour; — what  if  Envy  stand  aloof] 


*  The  audience  expected  the  speaker  to  say  Athenian.  The  word  Cechetiian 
means  stupid,  gajiinff, — easy  to  be  cheated ;  and  applies  more  particularly  to  that 
love  of  news  which  distinguished  the  Athenians  in  the  time  of  Demosthenes  and  St. 
Paul,  and  which  still  forms  a  prominent  feature  in  the  character  of  the  modern 
Athenians. 

■j-  The  Intcrmede,  which  now  relieves  the  action  of  the  play, — revolting  enough 
in  some  of  its  parts,  but  curious  in  all, — shows  what  a  most  inquisitorial  power  the 
Old  Comedy  exercised  over  public  and  private  life  in  Athens.  What  the  courtesy 
indeed  of  modern  manners  cither  drops  altogether,  or  mentions  only  as  a  misfortune, 
is  by  the  Greek  stage,  which  was  directed  entirely  to  the  amelioration  or  perfection 
of  men  gathered  into  a  community,  stigmatised  almost  as  an  offence.  Accordingly 
the  poverty  of  Lysistratus  and  Thaumantis,  made  contemptible  indeed  by  other 
accessories,  forms  a  prelude  to  the  public  mention  and  ridicule  of  crimes  which  the 
dramatist  brands  indeed  with  the  most  deserved  infamy,  but  which,  for  the  honour 
of  human  nature,  will  not  bear  the  most  distant  allusion.  The  lighter  raillerv  upon 
the  wretched  CIconymus,  who  is  now  served  up  to  the  public  as  a  parasite,  and 
upon  the  worthless  Hyperbolus,  as  the  author  of  an  obnoxious  state  measure,  can 
hardly  fail  to  excite  a  smile. 


152  THE  knights; 

i 

A  wretch  exists, — were  common  knowledge  more  familiar  with  his  name,  m 

I  without  an  innuendo  loudly  would  pronounce  the  same. 

But  obscurity  protects  him,  and  Satire,  much  desiring  other, 

Finds  no  shaft  to  pierce  and  wound  him,  but  through  his  exalted  brother. 

Arignotus — (when  I  name  him,  none  his  merit  needs  to  learn, 

Who  is  master  of  his  gamut,  or  can  black  from  white  discern) 

Shames  his  fortunes  by  a  brother,  pair'd  with  him  in  nought  but  blood, 

Who  takes  pleasure  in  his  vices  as  a  swine  that 's  wash'd,  in  mud. 

Were  he,  sirs,  a  simple  scoundrel,  as  a  cutpurse  from  the  street, 

A  suborner  or  informer,  or  a  bully  or  a  cheat; 

Had  he  turned  his  mind  to  filching,  or  to  flattery  or  praise, 

Or  had  practis'd  oldest  vices  in  the  newest  kind  of  ways ; 

Verse  of  mine  had  never  touched  him,  nor  perhaps  his  name  been  known, 

But  the  wretch  to  old  pollutions  adds  inventions  of  his  own. 

In  the  flow  of  solemn  verse 

Here  then  I  pronounce  a  curse, 

And  I  damn  to  endless  fame 

Ariphrades,  that  thing  of  shame. 

And  his  deed  without  a  *name; — 

If  there  be  who  counter  run 

To  this  honest  malison, 

Fellowship  with  them  I  '11  none  : 

I  abjure  them  and  resign  ; 

Nor  shall  juice  of  generous  wine 

Ever  flow  in  friendly  cup 

For  our  common  lips  to  sup. 

Semi-Chokus. 

On  my  bed  and  in  my  play, 

— Much  by  night  and  more  by  day, — 

To  myself  I  talk  and  say. 

What  profession,  art,  or  trade. 

Earns  Cleonymus  his  bread? 

Rumour  says,  that  once  within 

A  rich  man's  cupboard,  press  or  bin, 

Pray'r  nor  tear,  nor  menace  stout, 

Can  entice  the  glutton  out. 

Though  from  his  knees  the  suppliant  rise — 

Attest  the  earth — adjure  the  skies, 

And  beg  with  deprecating  cries 

"  King — Emperor — Lord — come  forth  we  pray. 

And  grant  our  board  one  holiday." 

•  Of  sinnes  heteroclitall,  and  such  as  want  either  name  or  president,  there  is  oft- 
times  a  sinne  even  in  their  histories.  We  desire  no  recorde  of  such  enormities ; 
sinnes  should  be  accounted  new  that  so  they  may  be  esteemed  monstrous. — Browne 
on  Vulgar  Errors. 


or  the  demagogues.  153 

Full  Chorus. 
Our  ships  in  congress  met  of  late 
For  councils  grave  and  sage  debate. 
A  frigate  well  advanced  in  years 
Rose  first  and  told  her  secret  fears. 
"  Sad  tidings,  ladies,  these  I  hear; — 
Things  go  but  ill  in  town,  I  fear. 
A  hundred  of  us — such  the  tale — 
Must  instant  to  "Chalcedon  sail : 
May  fiery  vengeance  blast  the  brute, 
Hyperbolusj — who  urg'd  the  suit 
And  carried  it!" — The  lady  spoke. 
And  terror  seiz'd  the  maids  of  oak. — 
"  'T  was  past  endurance" — "  faith  and  troth." — 
Some  fainted — others  dropp'd  an  oath. 
Uprose  a  sloop,  whose  maiden  breast 
No  hand  of  man  had  yet  comprest, 
And,  "  Ladies,"  with  a  sneer,  cried  she, 
"  Such  scurvy  captains  board  not  me. 
Sooner  shall  age  these  timbers  eat, 
And  give  the  worms  a  lasting  treat. 

*  The  possession  of  Chalcedon  and  Byzantium  was  of  the  utmost  importance  to 
Athens.  Both  were  great  objects,  for  revenue  and  for  commerce ;  for  commerce 
especially  in  two  principal  articles  of  the  Attic  market,  corn  and  slaves. 

The  promontory  on  which  the  ancient  Chalcedon  stood,  is,  according  to  Pococke, 
a  very  fine  situation,  being  a  gentle  rising  ground  from  the  sea,  with  which  it  is 
almost  bounded  on  three  sides ;  and  having  further  on  the  cast  side  of  it  a  small 
river,  which  falls  into  the  little  bay  to  the  south,  that  seems  to  have  been  the  port  of 
the  Chalcedonians.  Chalcedon,  therefore,  says  this  writer,  would  be  esteemed  a 
most  delightful  situation,  if  Constantinople,  which  is  still  more  advantageously 
situated,  were  not  so  near  it. 

■j"  Hyperbolus  was  a  man  of  much  the  same  turbulent  character  as  Cleon :  he  was 
the  friend  of  that  ignorant  and  overbearing  demagogue  when  living,  and  the  suc- 
cessor to  his  influence  among  the  lowest  of  the  people.  A  few  years  after  this 
comedy  was  written,  Hyperbolus  endeavoured  to  create  a  variance  between  Nicias 
and  Alcibiades,  and  to  exercise  upon  the  latter  the  well  known  punishment  of 
ostracism.  "  His  influence,"  says  the  English  historian  of  Greece,  (vol.  iv.  p.  28.) 
"  was  such,  that  it  was  evidently  in  his  power  to  decide  whether  Alcibiades  or  Nicias 
should  be  banished.  But  he  had  a  politician  to  encounter  such  as  Cleon  never  met 
with.  Alcibiades  communicated  with  Nicias;  an  assembly  of  the  people  was  held  ; 
both  collected  their  strength  ;  and  Hyperbolus  was  named  as  a  person,  by  his  weight, 
influence  and  seditious  designs,  dangerous  to  the  commonwealth.  The  people  were 
surprised:  for  no  man  of  his  mean  condition  was  ever  before  proposed  as  a  subject 
for  the  ostracism.  But  the  Athenian  people  loved  a  joke;  and  this  appeared  a  good 
one :  they  would  honour  him  by  ranking  him  with  Miltiades,  Aristeides,  Themisto- 
cles  and  Cymon.  To  this  whim  of  a  thoughtless  multitude  was  added  all  the  weight 
of  interest  of  Alcibiades  and  Nicias,  and  the  banishment  of  Hyperbolus  was  decided." 
The  Athenians  thought  the  punishment  of  ostracism  (which  some  writer,  I  think, 
has  called  a  tax  upon  virtue)  so  much  disgraced  by  a  man  like  Hyperbolus  having 
been  subjected  to  it,  that  they  afterwards  abolished  it. 
20 


154  THE  knights; 

You,  ladies,  as  you  please — but  I 

This  chief  of  visag-e  sour  defy — 

And  Spitfire  holds  me  company. 

Our  hearts  are  strong; — our  cause  is  good  ;- 

He  '11  find  us,  girls,  true  pitch  and  wood. — 

For  Athens — sure  her  wits  are  fled ; 

Nor  knows  she  what  fits  bark  wellbred. 

I  move  then,  till  the  storm  be  past. 

By  *Theseus'  fane  we  anchor  fast, 

Or  stretch  us  for  that  chapel  fair 

Where  the  *Eumenides  hear  prayer. 

Never,  so  help  me  Jove,  shall  he 

To  mock  the  town,  take  charge  of  me ; 

But  rather,  when  the  wind  sets  fair. 

Feast  with  his  bones  the  fowls  of  air, 

Launching  the  boats,  wherein  convey'd 

Such  wealth  and  stores  of  cash  he  made 

By  j-candlewicks  and  chandlers  trade. 


ACT  V. 

SCENE  I. 

Agoracritus,  Chorus. 

^igor.  A  truce  to  the  speech  that  ill  omens  would  teach, 

reign  words  of  all  blest  acceptation  ; 
Affidavits  may  cease  and  the  courts:}:  all  in  peace 

slumber  quiet  without  molestation. 
Such  weak  joys  are  no  more — to  new  blessings  we  soar, 

and  oh !  for  this  blest  transformation. 
So  prosp'rous  and  new,  ring  the  theatre  through 

loud  paeans  of  high  gratulation. 

*  The  temples  of  Theseus  and  the  Eumenides  were  places  of  refuge  for  runaway 
slaves, 

\  Hyperbolus  is  laughed  at  elsewhere  as  a  hnkmaker.  How  far  the  poet's  satire 
upon  a  man's  occupation  is  to  be  extended,  has  been  already  explained. 

^  We  shall  have  occasion  to  consider  the  judicial  policy  of  Athens  in  the 
comedy  of  the  Wasps:  in  what  light  it  was  considered  by  themselves  may  be 
seen  by  the  concluding  clause  against  those  who  violated  the  Amphictyonic  oath, 
and  which  the  framers  of  that  oath  appear  to  have  considered  as  all  that  was  horri- 
ble: May  they  never  perform  a  pure  sacrifice  to  Apollo,  Di^na  and  Minerva  the 
provident:  may  they  be  alike  vnsicccessfid  in  war  and  lawsuits,  and  may  their 
posterity  be  extirpated  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 


OR    THE    DEMAGOGUES.  155 

Chor.  (/o  Jlgor.)  Thou  star  wond'rous  bright,  shedding  radiance  and  light, 
to  our  islands  and  town  beneficial, 
Say,  what  news  dost  thou  note  that  our  streets  wide  must  float 
in  *perfume  and  rites  sacrificial  ? 
^gor.  Demus,  sirs,  by  ray  power,  is  again  seen  to  tower 
in  the  vigour  of  youth  and  stern  beauty ; 
So  hard  have  I  toil'd,  vapour'd,  seeth'd  and  parboil'd, 
and  so  well  has  my  caldron  done  duty. 
Chor.  And  where  does  he  dwell,  open  further  and  tell, 

thou  man  of  devices  victorious  ] 
dgor.  He  dwells  in  the  town  of  the  violet  crown, 

in  Athens  the  ancient  and  glorious. 
Chor.  His  bearing  and  port  deign  me  next  to  report, 
what  dress  and  costume  say  have  won  hiral 
Let  me  hear,  sir,  and  learn,  that  my  eyes  meek  may  turn 
views  of  love  and  devotion  upon  him. 
Agor.  In  the  garb  of  past  years  richly  rob'd  he  appears; 
in  those  fashions  and  forms  all  his  pride  is, 
When  he  din'd  in  high  state  as  Miltiades'  mate, 

and  supp'd  with  the  wise  Aristeides. 
But  full  view  you  may  take — for  hark  !  the  doors  creak, 

new  jvisions  of  glory  forth  sending ; 
Now  clap  hands  and  throw  out  all  your  soul  in  a  shout 
to  the  honour  of  Athens  ascending. 

•  It  was  the  custom,  at  Athens,  on  any  good  news  to  offer  sacrifices  to  the  gods, 
whose  images  were  placed  in  the  streets. 

•j-  W.  Schlegel  thinks  that  the  scene  was  here  changed,  and  a  view  of  the  mag- 
nificent Propylsea  substituted  in  place  of  the  humble  dwelhng  of  the  allegorical 
Demus.  The  same  excellent  writer,  as  warm  in  his  feelings  as  he  is  correct  and 
universal  in  his  literature,  remarks  very  justly,  that  there  is  something  affecting  in 
this  triumphal  rejoicing,  which  attends  the  restoration  of  Demus  to  former  youth, 
and  dignity  of  character.  Aristophanes  was,  indeed,  in  his  -way,  a  true  patriot;  and 
the  man,  who  fearlessly  exposed  himself,  while  he  held  up  to  ridicule  two  classes  of 
men,  whose  malignant  influence  had  made  this  renovation  so  necessary ;  viz.,  the 
Demagogues,  who  abused  the  public  confidcncp,  and  the  still  more  pernicious 
Sophists,  who  poisoned  truth,  justice  and  virtue  in  their  very  sources:  such  a  man 
might  be  expected  to  revert  with  feelings  of  no  ordinary  description  to  that  period  of 
his  country's  history,  which,  if  no  other  monument  remained  of  it  than  the  noble 
message  recorded  in  Herodotus,  (Calliope,  c.  vii.)  is  entitled  to  a  respect,  which  the 
age  of  Pericles,  with  all  its  polish  and  civilization,  its  poets,  its  painters,  its  sculptors, 
and  its  men  of  letters,  fails  to  excite.  As  the  nature  of  the  present  work  has  brought 
the  reader  upon  a  period  of  Grecian  history,  which  afTords  few  materials  for  com- 
mendation, the  translator  gladly  seizes  an  opportunity  of  reverting  to  a  brighter  side 
of  the  picture,  by  the  insertion  of  this  message,  so  truly  worthy  by  its  noble  sim- 
plicity of  the  better  times  of  Greece : — Now  the  Athenian  deputies,  in  company  with 
those  of  Megara  and  Platsea,  came  to  Lacedaemon,  and  being  introduced  to  the 
Ephori,  they  addressed  them  thus :  We  inform  you,  on  the  part  of  the  Athenians, 
that  the  king  of  the  Medes  is  ready  to  restore  to  us  our  country,  and  to  make  an 
alliance  with  us  upon  fair  and  equal  terms,  without  fraud  and  without  deceit :  he  is 
willing  also  to  give  us  another  country  in  addition  to  our  own,  leaving  the  choice  of 


156  THE  knights; 

She  appears  in  her  praise  as  the  ancient  of  days, 

the  theme  and  the  top  of  high  wonder; 
Demus'  fitmost  abode,  hyinn'd  in  song-  and  in  ode, 

and  echoed  in  peals  of  deep  thunder. 
Cho.  O  far  envied  town,  in  whose  chaplet  and  crown 

the  violets  never  are  blighted, 
Athens  famous  and  great,  show  thy  king  in  his  state, 

and  let  Greece  own  her  monarch  delighted ! 
Agar.  Splendour  deck'd,  and  in  oils  and  in  essences  trick'd, 

see  he  comes  and  claims  deep  veneration  ! 
He  deigns  in  his  hair  the  *cicada  to  wear. 

breathing  truce,  love,  and  conciliation. 

SCENE  II. 

Demus,  Chorus,  Agoracritus. 

Cho.  Hail,  hail  to  our  lord,  honour'd,  lov'd  and  ador'd, 
through  Greece  his  all-hallow'd  dominion  ! 
Transported  we  bring  to  the  feet  of  our  king 

this  triumph  of  public  opinion. 
To  the  pleasure  and  fame  of  our  town  and  its  name 

thou  hast  order'd,  decreed  and  enacted. 
Thou  hast  acted  and  done,  as  achievements  long  won 
at  Marathon's  high  field  exacted. 
Btm,  Come  hither,  Agoracritus — my  gratitude 

such  country  to  ourselves.  We,  however,  out  of  reverence  to  the  Hellenic  Jupiter, 
and  thinking  that  it  would  be  an  atrocious  proceeding  on  our  part  to  -prove  traitors 
to  Greece,  have  rejected,  instantly  rejected,  his  offers,  though  the  injuries  and  ex- 
treme treachery  we  have  experienced  from  the  Greeks,  might  have  justified  us  in 
adopting  a  different  course.  We  cannot  be  ignorant  that  it  would  be  more  for  our 
advantage  to  be  on  terms  of  amity  with  the  Persian,  than  to  be  the  object  of  his 
hostility  :  but  to  such  amity  our  own  choice  shall  never  lead  us;  we  repeat  it — never. 
And  thus  far,  on  our  part,  all  behaviour  towards  the  Greeks  has  been  marked  with 
candour  and  sincerity,  «&c.  Such  was  the  mode  of  thinking  among  the  Athenians, 
when  that  giddy  and  ill  advised  people  had  just  contrived  to  get  rid  of  their 
"tyrants;" — those  tyrants  who,  as  the  impartial  Thucydides  says,  cultivated,  in  an 
extreme  degree,  virtue  and  wisdom ;  and  the  happiness  of  whose  administration  is 
compared  by  Plato  to  that  of  the  golden  age  of  Saturn.  (Plat,  in  Hipparcho,  3.  A.) 
Whether  their  modes  of  thinking  were  improved  by  the  introduction  of  republican- 
ism, we  leave  the  readers  of  Plato  and  Aristophanes  to  say. 

*  The  Athenians  prided  themselves  in  the  idea  of  being  sprung  from  the  earth : 
and  as  an  emblem  of  this  imaginary  generation  they  had  a  custom  of  wearing  golden 
cicadae  (generally  translated  grasshoppers)  in  their  hair.  The  Arcadians,  who 
boasted  that  they  existed  before  the  moon,  advanced  their  pretence  in  the  same  way 
by  wearing  moons  in  their  shoes.  Plato,  whom  nothing  fanciful  in  the  mythical 
tales  of  his  countrymen  escaped,  has  prosecuted  their  claim  to  antiquity  at  some 
length  in  his  amusing  little  dialogue,  called  Critias. — See  also  his  Republic,  lib.  iii. 
p.  443.  Edit.  Mars.  Ficmi. 


OR    THE    DEMAGOGUES.  157 

Is  tied  to  thee — such  marvellous  amendment 
Hath  this  thy  boiling  wrought. 

J]gor.  O  could  your  eye 

Reverted  trace  your  former  state,  and  actions  ! — 
These  have  not  come  within  your  scope  of  knowledge; — 
Had  they — the  gratitude  would  e'en  come  short, 
That  rank'd  me  next  the  mark  of  high  divinity. 

Dem.  And  what  might  be  this  former  state]  unbuckle  thee 
And  paint  my  former  self  unto  me. 

Agor.  Sir, 

Your  bidding  shall  be  done.     This  was  your  nature  : 
Did  one  in  the  Assembly  speak  you  thus, 
(mimics)  "  Demus,  I  am  your  friend — Demus,  't  is  you 
Alone  command*  my  love — Demus,  there  's  none 
But  I  takes  counsel  for  you" — needed  only 
A  speech  and  tricksy  flourishing  like  this. 
And  straight  your  horns  were  in  the  air  for  pride 
And  joy  unbounded. 

Dem,  Say,  how  far'd  meantime 

The  trickster] 

Agor.  He  had  gain'd  his  end  and  march'd 

Away;  what  should  detain  him  to  your  uses] 

Dem,  And  did  they  fool  my  senses  thus] 

Agor,  .  Your  ears 

Meantime  went  as  it  were  on  springs,  sir,  closing 
And  opening  at  will,  like  some  umbrella. 

Dem,  0  that  my  riper  years  should  see  themselves 
From  wisdom  thus  divorced  I     I  mourn  my  folly. 

Jlgor.  Put  case, — a  brace  of  orators  arose, 
And  one  thus  utter'd  him — "  'T  is  fit  we  mann'd 
A  fleet" — the  other,  "  Sirs,  the  judges  must  not 
Curtail  them  of  their  fee" — how  went  the  issue] 
Mark  !  the  ship-advocate  is  quash'd  anon — 
Look  to  the  fee-commender — he  hath  gain'd 
His  cause,  and  gone  about  his  business  presently  — 
{to  Dem.)  Well  may  you  shift  your  ground  and  hang  your  ears. 

Dem.  My  cheeks  indeed  pay  shame  for  such  oflTence 
And  guilt  of  former  days. 

Agor.  With  you  it  rests  not; 

Nor  shall  you  do  yourself  that  wrong  to  think  it : 

•  There  is  much  humour  in  this  passage,  but  Arbuthnot  has  carried  the  satire 
much  farther.  When  John  Bull  arrives  at  Ecciesdown  Castle,  he  exacts  from  his 
servants  a  declaration  of  their  regard  for  him. 

J.  B.  Are  you  glad  to  see  your  master  in  Ecciesdown  Castle  ? 

All.  Yes,  indeed,  sir. 

J.  B.  Extremely  gladl 

All.  Extremely,  sir. 

J.  B.  Swear  to  me  that  you  are  so. 

Then  they  began  to  damn  and  sink  their  souls  to  the  lowest  pit  of  hell,  if  any 
person  in  the  world  rejoiced  more  than  they  did. 


158  THE  knights; 

Their's  was  the  shame,  that  play'd  upon  your  easiness. 
But  now  put  case  in  after  day — good  Demus — 
Some  scoundrel  iVoin  the  bar  should  thus  address  you. 
"  This  culprit  must  be  trounced — I  '11  have  that  cause 
Nonsuited — let  the  judges  else  look  to  it — 
No  fee,  no  bread  for  them  if  they  refuse." — 
Should  one  discourse  you  thus,  how  shall  he  fare 
With  you "? 

Dem.  The  *public  pit  shall  be  his  fate. 

Thither  shall  he  be  borne — and  at  his  neck 
I  '11  tie  Hyperbolus  by  way  of  makeweight. 

^flgor.  There  is  a  smack  of  sense  and  justice  here. 
What  other  measures  for  the  state's  good  ordinance 
Have  you  devis'd  ] 

Bern.  Who  row  our  men  of  war, 

Shall  win  the  harbour  and  full  f  pay  together. 

Jlgor.  Many  worn  :(:hams  will  thank  you  for  this  grace. 

Dem,  The  list  which  sees  a  citizen§  enroll'd 
Shall  keep  it  there:  no  grace — no  innovation. 

Jlgor.  This  blow  will  strike  Cleonymus'  huge  buckler. 

Dem.  I  '11  have  no  speeches  in  the  Agora 
From  those  whose  chins  have  not  yet  budded. 

Jlgor.  Clisthenes, 

And  Straton  then  must  use  dispatch,  and  straight 
Look  out  another  school  of  oratory. 

Dem.  My  meaning  rather  points  to  those  same  sparks, 
For  ever  haunting  the  perfumers  shops. 

Who  sit  and  chatter  to  this  tune — "  Commend  me  (mimicking) 
To  ijPhaeax— swinge  me! — 't  is  a  man  of  parts — 

•  The  barathrum  is  meant  here,  a  deep  pit,  where  criminals  were  thrown  at 
Athens. 

+  Every  Athenian  was  more  or  less  a  seaman  ;  and  as  the  soldier  sometimes 
worked  at  the  oar,  so  the  seaman,  upon  occasions,  served  by  land.  The  pay  of  the 
seaman,  like  that  of  the  oplite,  was,  at  the  beginning  of  the  Peloponnesian  war,  two 
drachmee.  (Thuc.  1.  iii.  c.  17.)  This  was  found  too  much  for  the  public  treasury, 
and  a  reduction  took  place.  In  the  expedition  against  Sicily,  the  state  allowance  to 
the  mariners  was  only  one  drachma:  (Thuc.  1.  vi.  c.  31.)  we  afterwards  find 
Alcibiades  advising  Tissaphernes  (Thuc.  1.  viii.  c.  45.)  that  the  Athenians  gave  but 
half  a  drachma  to  their  sailors,  and  recommending  him  to  reduce  his  allowances  to 
the  same  sum. 

i  Lcs  malheureux  qui  devoient  gagner  leur  vie  en  servant,  des  I'enfance,  sur  les 
flottes  de  la  republique,  y  contractoient,  par  la  manoeuvre  penible  des  rames,  un 
defaut  dans  la  taille  auquel  on  les  reconnoissoit  parmi  les  autres  habitans  de  I'Attique. 
C'etoit  une  depression  immediatement  audessous  de  la  colonne  vertebrale,  ou  se 
fait  le  plus  grand  effort  des  rameurs.  Les  mythologistes  de  la  Grece,  qui  plaisan- 
toient  souvent  a  leur  raaniere,  disoient  que  cette  difformite  des  Atheniens  etoit  un 
vice  hereditaire,  que  Thesee  leur  avoit  transmis,  apres  avoir  ete  long  temps  assis 
sur  la  pierre  de  doujeur;  mais  cette  pretendue  pierre  de  douleur  n'etoit  dans  la 
realite  que  le  banc  des  galeriens.     De  Pauw,  t.  i.  p.  109. 

§  See  the  comedy  of  the  Peace. 

g  The  inadvertencies  of  so  learned  a  man  as  Casaubon  are  to  be  mentioned  with 


OR    THE    DEMAGOGUES.  159 

Vers'd  in  all  school  points  most  divinely — none 

Takes  firmer  hold  upon  his  hearer — split  me  ! — 

And  then  such  art  in  hamrnerintj  his  sentiments, 

So  clear,  so  powerful  to  sway  the  passions  ! — 

He  '11  take  them  in  their  highest  storm  and  buffetings, 

And — stap  my  vitals — lay  them  in  a  moment."  [maker 

Jlgor.  (jnimicking.')  A  rape  !  a  rape  !  thou  'rt  gone,  thou  'rtlost — this  phrase- 
Hath  ta'en  thy  very  senses — split  my  windpipe  ! 

Dem.  Nay,  they  may  bid  farewell  to  law  and  act  making; 
The  woods*  and  fields  offer  more  fit  diversion — 
There  let  them  course  and  hunt,  or  force  may  drive  them. 

^gor.  Say  you?  by  the  same  token  then  I  gift  you 
With  this  trim  folding  f  stool,  and  here  's  at  hand 
A  stout  and  well  limb'd  lad  to  bear  it  for  you. 

Dem.  IMy  heart  o'erflows — old  days  return. 

^gor.  None  will 

Gainsay  that  speech,  when  I  shall  put  a  gift 
Into  thy  hand,  which  thirty  years  will  not 
Wear  out — what  hoa,  my  lady  :|:Truces,  enter ! 

Dem.  Why  I  what  a  world  of  charms  is  showered  here  ! 
This  lip  might  tempt  me  to  a  §thirty  years 

due  respect.  Phseax  was  not  an  imaginary  voluptuar}',  drawn  from  the  Odyssey,  as 
he  supposes,  but  a  son  of  Erasistratus,  who  began  public  life  with  Alcibiades. 
Phfeax,  according  to  PUitarch,  (Life  of  Alcibiades,)  liad  an  easy,  persuasive  manner 
of  speaking  in  private  conversation,  but  could  not  maintain  a  debate  before  the 
people;  or  as  Eupolis  said  of  him,  he  was  an  excellent  talker  but  a  most  impotent 
orator  {Kaxm  ipig-oi,  ctSvv^'rieTU.'Tot;  Ktrynv).  The  poet  therefore  laughs  at  the  young 
coxcombs  of  Athens,  as  not  knowing  the  difft>rence  between  true  oratory  and  a 
mere  flow  of  words;  and  the  satire  is  conveyed  in  the  affected  language  of  that 
class  of  men,  whom  he  exposes  with  such  admirable  art  in  the  comedy  of  the 
Clouds.  The  dialogue  called  Sophista,  in  which  Plato  brings  all  his  gigantic 
powers  to  bear  upon  the  same  pestilent  race  of  men,  with  an  apparent  consciousness, 
that  even  those  powers  are  almost  unequal  to  the  task  of  fully  exposing  their  falla- 
cious subtleties  and  specious  deceptions,  is  conducted  almost  entirely  in  the  same 
kind  of  phraseology.  See  also  his  dialogue  called  Politicus,  and  Xen.  Mem.  1.  3. 
c.  1.  s.  6.  That  the  spirit  of  the  original  might  not  be  entirely  lost,  I  have  ventured 
to  substitute  some  of  the  terms  of  the  diamatic  fops  of  Charles  the  Second's  time. 

•  The  satire  of  Aristophanes  is  here,  as  in  most  other  places,  perfectly  on  the 
right  side.  The  young  men  of  Athens  were  gradually  deserting  the  manly  exercises 
of  the  field,  for  the  effeminate  pleasures  of  a  town  life,  and  for  the  public  assemblies, 
in  which  they  valued  themselves  on  displaymg  a  specious,  false  and  foppish 
eloquence,  in  what  manners  and  under  what  masters  acquired,  we  shall  have  occa- 
sion to  sec  in  the  comedy  of  the  Clouds. 

■\  It  was  customary  for  rich  men  at  Athens  to  have  a  slave  follow  them  with  a  stool 
of  this  kind,  that  they  might  rest  themselves  at  pleasure.  The  avaricious  man  in  Thco- 
phrastus  saves  himself  this  expense  by  carrying  with  him  an  old  mantle  for  the  purpose. 

\  Some  females  are  here  introduced  characteristically  habited.  All  early  comedy  is 
fond  of  allusions  of  this  kind.  In  the  French  morality,  Le  bien  advise  et  le  mul  advis^, 
the  present,  past  and  future  tenses  of  the  verb  to  reign,  figure  as  allegorical  persons. 

§  Probably  an  allusion  to  tlic  thirty  years  truce,  which  was  to  have  preceded  the 
Peloponnesian  war. 


160  THE  knights; 

Salute! — those  eyes — how  cam'st  thou  by  these  beauties  1 

Jlgor.  They  were  conceard  within,  and  who  but  he, 
The  cursed  Paphlagonian,  to  hide  theml 
Take  them  and  hie  thee  to  the  country  instantly. 

Dem.  And  how,  meantime,  shall  fare  the  Paphlagonian? 

iMgnr.  This  be  his  punishment — to  exercise 
The  trade  I  leave — dwell  by  the  city  gales. 
Owning  no  fellowship  nor  soft  communion — 
To  ply — (and  that  by  grace) — the  trade  of  Sausage-vender — 
To  make  his  olios — *dogflesh  enrich'd 
With  asses  meat — to  know  no  sober  moment — 
And  when  he  's  high  in  wine,  to  make  a  war 
Of  words  upon  his  graceless  nymph  companions— 
To  thirst  and  slake  his  parching  throat  from  streams 
Which  first  have  visited  the  public  baths — 
Does  this  content,  or  shall  worst  treatment  bide  him  % 

Dem.  Nay,  I  subscribe  to  this — on  such  society 
His  swordtongue  best  is  drawn — there  let  him  battle — 
(Jo  'igor.')  For  thee — thy  services  deserve  the  Hall, 
And  seat  which  late  install'd  that  worthless  varlet. 
Take  you  this  robe,  ('t  is  green,  and  borrows  name 
From  frogs)  you  are  my  debtor  for  it — follow  me 
And  bear  the  same  in  hand — for  Cleon,  let  now 
His  new  pursuit  see  him  in  solemn  act 
Install'd,  and  garb'd  as  best  befits  his  office: 
'T  will  satisfy  the  strangers  whom  his  coarse 
Affronts  have  long  been  wont  to  mortify. f 

[A  processmi — Cleon  is  carried  in  state  in  the  full  costume  and  with  all  the  imple- 
ments of  his  new  profession — the  Chorus  accompanying  the  pomp  with  a  song, 
which  unfortunately  has  not  come  dotun  to  «s.] 

•  It  was  the  custom,  acrording  to  the  Scholiast,  for  the  lower  tradesmen  to  prac- 
tise tricks  of  this  kind  and  thus  impose  upon  the  unwary.  It  appears,  however,  from 
Hippocrates,  unpalatable  and  even  monstrous  as  such  a  dish  may  appear  to  us,  that 
the  flesh  of  asses,  horses,  dogs  and  foxes  was  eaten  without  any  scruple  in  Greece. 
Dogs'  flesh,  according  to  Casaubon,  was  recommended  by  this  great  physician  as 
particularly  wholesome. 

f  Thus  ends  this  singular  play :  a  short  remark  from  one  of  the  most  clear- 
sighted and  virtuous  of  the  poet's  contemporaries  will  supersede  the  necessity  of 
making  any  comments  upon  its  tendency,  or  pointing  out  the  lessons  of  political 
wisdom,  which  may  be  derived  from  it. — "  That  the  populace  should  be  partial  to  a 
democracy,"  says  the  excellent  Xenophon.  "  I  can  easily  excuse  ;  for  it  is  pardonable 
that  every  person  should  try  to  benefit  himself;  but  if  any  one,  not  immediately  in 
the  rank  of  the  people,  prefers  living  in  a  democratical  rather  than  in  an  oligarchical 
government,  that  man  is  a  villain  by  anticipation,  and  acts  upon  the  consciousness, 
that  it  is  easier  to  be  a  bad  man  and  to  escape  detection  in  a  state  where  the  govern- 
ment is  in  the  hands  of  the  many,  than  it  is  in  a  state  where  the  government  is  in 
the  hands  of  a  few."     Xen.  de  Rep.  Ath.  c.  ii.  §  20. 

THE  END. 


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